


Vhenadahl

by FoxyWolfMeerkat, Silvermoonphantom (Daitoshi)



Series: Ara ma'athlan vhenas (I will call you home) [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Elves are basically cats, Eventual Plot, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Graphic Violence, M/M, Plot, Romance, Smut, Swearing, Violence, falling in love slowly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:51:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyWolfMeerkat/pseuds/FoxyWolfMeerkat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daitoshi/pseuds/Silvermoonphantom
Summary: Hawke had always believed in family. In love. In happily-ever-afters, despite everything. Some have called him a bleeding heart.Plenty of people would like to take advantage of that.Then again, isn't that what second chances are for?





	1. A Quest Marker Appeared

Hawke took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before letting it out with a gusty exhale.

"Oh Lowtown! I always forget just how pungent the smell of despair, alcohol, and fresh baked bread is down here. And whatever they're burning in the foundry..."

"I'm sure they're burning a special blend today, just for you. Something about soiled pants and hair? It's always a surprise." Varric gave Hawke a grin, boots clanking against the rough stone street. "After your stroll through this lovely bouquet, I'm all for swinging into a tavern. I hear there's a brew down here that could curl your nose hairs."

The dwarf seemed unconcerned of the smell, or that they were on their way to visit Merrill in the ungodly searing heat of summer. It may have been late in the afternoon, but the sweltering humidity hadn't relented a bit. 

"Oh, did The Hanged Man finally manage to find worse alcohol than what they already serve, or did you find a new tavern for us to drape our hides in after cleaning up all of Kirkwall's messes?"

Lately, he found Varric was the only one of their group who treated the poor elf gently. None of them were keen to forget that she was a blood mage but... Well, Hawke had long since accepted that he just kept weird, dangerous friends. Best not to think about it too hard.

He could see the outer edge of the vhenadahl’s branches, dappling the light coming into Kirkwall’s alienage and casting the rough buildings around it into cool shadow. Hawke doubted he’d ever find the contrast to be perfectly natural - thick roots had grown stubbornly between cracked cobble, the massive tree both standing tall and spreading its leaves like a looming bird.

"Well, when I say 'tavern' I mean it more like 'the shed behind someone's house' and by 'house' I might mean something like 'Alleyway' - interesting things can come from unpredictable sources, you know."

 

As if on cue (because of course nothing could ever go simply), a frantic elvhen woman clipped his side, stumbling a step to avoid Varric before leaping back.

"Oh! Sorry serah! I... You. You're the Champion! Please, serah, I'm not certain whom to go to for help..." Her desperate look had morphed quickly from fear to painful hope.

"Well, there is always the guard..." Hawke muttered, already knowing it was too late to redirect the elf's pleas.

"I'm sure the mighty Champion would be delighted to help in any way they can." Varroc interjected with a genuine tone, the gentle words contrasting with the amused quirk of his lips. Hawke fought back a groan, but knew he really did have a soft heart, chasing people's problems all over the countryside.

The elvhen woman was quick to continue, almost disbelieving that she’d found a willing ear.

"Serah, last night dozens of men came into the alienage. They took children! M-most of us... We didn't even hear them. My little boy is gone and I…” She faltered, swallowing tightly. Hawke felt the back of his neck prickle at her description, wondering whether the silent step had been from skill or magic. Either way, kidnapped children was never a good sign.

“Please, Ser! All I found was this, most of us didn't even find this much..." She offered a scrap of paper, pressing it into the mage’s hands.

Hawke didn't have to look at it for more than a few seconds before an thunderously displeased scowl spread across his face.

"I'll be back before the sun rises tomorrow. Varric, come on." Hawke walked away before the woman fully processed what happened, her babbled thanks fading back into the rest of Lowtown's noise.

 

Varroc trotted after Hawke, glancing sideways at the paper still clenched in his hand.   
"You seem sure of yourself," he commented. "A bunch of sneaks silently steal away children and they're clumsy enough to leave an address?"

Hawke shook his head, still glaring at the path ahead.

"Not exactly, but I tend to find that with a shipping manifest asking for two-legged cargo, the docks tend to be a good place to start.” He exhaled a slow, deliberate breath to keep his calm.

“Got a plan, then?”  

“...I'll figure out exactly where we're going after we pick up Fenris and Aveline. I'm good at improvising."

He headed for Hightown with his teeth clenched, the muscle in his jaw jumping in a way that clearly communicated that someone was likely going to die a horrible death that day. Children… slaves were bad, but targeting _children?_

 

"It's always a shipping manifest," Varric mused, "why are people so bad at keeping their paperwork in order, I wonder."  Varric wisely didn't ask what they were going to do. At this point, it would have been stating the obvious. So, he followed, discreetly tallying the bolts in his quiver, and the traps in his bag.

Hawke swallowed back his anger, trying to stay focused with the lighthearted words of his shorter friend.

"I try and make a habit of not bringing my paperwork with me. Honestly, if I try and so much as bring a grocery list with me, I even manage to lose that. The whole damn manifest is a silly thing to carry with you.” He quirked a strained smile.  “I guess we're lucky that assholes from Tevinter are short sighted like that. Assuming they’re Tevine, and not just blighted suckholes."

It was a bit awkward to ‘sneak’ into the guard house so late at night, both of them knowing it was closed to visitors, while the men on duty recognized their captain’s associates quite easily. Unimpressed glares were shot their way from a few men, but one or two raised a hand in greeting, and none of the armored guards moved to stop them.

"Maybe I ought to bring along some "sensitive documents" for you to misplace." Varric’s gestured air quotes and joking tone almost hid the gears spinning in the back of his head. A guard tilted his head toward the two of them. Varric grinned at him.

He gave Aveline a jaunty wave as they entered her office and Hawke forced out a chuckle,

"Well, since it's you, Varric, I suppose I won't ask you to pay me for such an unassuming service."

"You’re so kind!" Varric wiped a fake tear from his eye at the offer. "Such generosity!"

 

Convincing Aveline went quickly. She knew the expression on Hawke's face every bit as well as Varric did, and the strained look lent some urgency to it.

Aveline nodded at her guards as she stepped out of her office, not bothering to ask what likely illegal activities they were about to dive into. She would really just rather not know, until it was too late for her guilt to get the better of her. She had her sword, her shield, and a trust that Hawke, at least, tended to side with the moral right - even if it didn’t always side with the law.

While rumors may fly, she didn’t exactly want to advertise that by discussing in front of her men.

The three of them were quick to head back to Hightown, crickets heralding their arrival with silence as they neared.

Hawke knocked at Fenris' door when they arrived, only just stopping himself from outright pounding on the sturdy wood. He knew Fenris was jumpy regardless of how often as he claimed he wasn't, and he'd be damned if he didn't ask for the elf's help at least half considerately.


	2. Sunset at the Docks

Fenris paced the hollowed out shell of a manor, tracing and retracing the halls, lyrium itching in the branching lines that wove through his skin. He didn't know if it was restlessness, loneliness, or some other prickling of his senses, but it was easier to ghost through the halls in search of possible intruders than it was to attempt self reflection.

He picked up the same bottle three times, uncorking it, and each time placing it corked once more, in a new location. As sweet as freedom may taste, his stomach wasn't welcoming any sort of food at the moment, let alone spirits. There were good days and bad days, in his life of waiting for more Tevinter slime to crawl out from the woodwork. The good days allowed for a fair amount of bloodshed, and an even fairer amount of purpose.  
Lately?  
It’d been slow. There wasn’t much for him to do, and Hawke only had so many errands to run that required a large sword and an angry elf to wield it. That he’d been left behind on several recent errands was probably due to his own growing restlessness manifesting in harsh words toward his companions. The inactivity had crawled under his skin, biting and writhing like a particularly vengeful wasp, and there wasn’t much he could do for it except wait.  
Endure.

Hope that the next time around, he’d be able to hold his tongue.  
Fenris threw himself into a ragged chair, shaking a half-consumed bottle of wine violently for a moment and watching the bubbles swirl. Fainter than the tiny pops of fizzling bubbles inside the darkened glass, he noticed footsteps outside.

He made a soft, irritated noise and leaned back, listening to the muffled sounds of footsteps approaching his front door. It wouldn’t have been noticeable in the day with so much traffic, but few stalked so late in the evening in Hightown.

If his ears were more mobile, they'd be flattened to his skull with irritation.

There were few people who would approach a broken-down mansion at such an hour, so his options were either ‘Trap’, ‘Burglars’, or ‘Hawke’.

Part of him hoped for the first one, just for something to do that didn’t require restraint.

Fenris prowled toward the door, the tension in his shoulders relaxing minutely when his sensitive ears recognized Aveline's voice. Since Aveline rarely (had she ever?) graced him with her presence voluntarily, Hawke must be leading the pack.

"So," The guardswoman started, voice muffled beyond the door, "you're getting Fenris, so we probably aren't dealing with any apostates. What's going on?" Hawke’s reply was lost through the wood, but he could recognize that voice anywhere.

He hesitated a few feet from the door, gauntlet claws tapping together a few times as he considered just... not answering the door. Damn it all.

He exhaled, feeling his lips twist in a disgruntled scowl at his own weakness. He yanked the door open, glaring out at the trio from behind bangs that might be a bit more mussed than usual.

"Well?" He bit out, the twisting in his stomach both easing and renewing at the sight of his... friend. Lover... Whatever they were. He could still feel the red cloth press against the inside of his wrist, so they must be something, at least.

"Did we interrupt your beauty sleep" Varric teased, earning only an unamused, blank stare. _Restraint._  
"No."

"You know, it's been a few days since we killed something, Fenris, care to join us?" In spite of Hawke's light tone, his expression remained rather serious.

"The slavers are at it again." He seemed to say it half as much to answer Aveline's question as an encouragement for Fenris to come along.

 

It could have passed as a trick of the light, but a gleam of blue shuddered down the scarred tattoos at the mention of slavers, coupled with Hawke's hard expression.

"You know me well," Fenris answered, only half forcing the quirk of his lips at the offer of violence. Bloodshed - especially slaver blood - sounded like an excellent way to shuck the tense anxiety wrapped around his throat.

"I’ll fetch my blade." He turned and walked back into the house, leaving the door open in invitation. (As if anyone would want to join him in this wreck of a house-) he brushed away the thought, quickly slinging his sword across his shoulders and heading back to the entrance.

"Looks like he could use a few more hours of beauty sleep" Varric mused, clearly still within earshot of the broody elf.

Hawke stepped in, not going too much further than the entrance. There was no reason to follow him in, if only because they would be leaving again soon. The man’s voice was soft, barely on the edge of his hearing even as Fenris made his way back to the entrance. "He did... I'll... If there's time after this, I'll talk with him. ...I'm sure all of us have sleepless nights. We shouldn't read too far into it."

Fenris felt a faint pang of guilt, remembering that he’d only visited when the man’s mother had died. Didn’t even visit after he’d been skewered by the Arishok. But no - he couldn’t return. It wasn’t his place.  He still had too much to finish. Too much baggage, and _hate_ to try to insert himself into someone else’s life like that.

 

He found Varric leaning against his door frame, musing about something with an unreadable expression. Avaline stood dispassionately outside the door, looking at the mess inside the foyer with something akin to exasperated disgust. Last time she’d tried to retrieve him, she’d stepped on a half-mummified rat carcass. Honestly, he’d forgotten it was there. It didn’t smell, and blended in with the rest of the broken rubbish, so her indignant horror at the time had been entertaining.

It’s not like he slept in the rubbish.

Varric looked up when the soft clink of Fenris's sword against armor heralded his otherwise silent approach. He seemed to consider saying something, eyes sweeping over tangled white hair, but reconsidered and remained blessedly silent.  
For once.

He bounced himself up off the doorframe as Fenris slid up to stand at Hawke's side, and Varric made a grand gesture. "Shall we?"

Hawke nodded, more at Fenris than at Varric. "We shall."

The trip down to the docks was about as awkward as Fenris had expected. While their comments might include them, and Hawke frequently attempted to offer pointed questions to the group, the restless frustration kept eating at the back of his tongue. It was better to remain silent.

Hawke led them to the docks, scanning the area with a hand up against the last sunlight’s rays bouncing golden off the water. Tall buildings kept the rest of Kirkwall shadowed in the afternoon, but the docks always had the loveliest sunsets.  

Avaline commented as much, and Fenris ignored Hawke’s dutiful snip against the smell of fish for his sake. There was no need. It felt forced.

Hawke seemed to sense the disinterest at last, shoulders slumping slightly. The next moment he perked up again, like a dog who had scented a hare. The man darted into an alley, a soft yelp letting them know he’d found his prey.

"Ah Marcus, here we are again. I think we both know what I want, so let's be quick, right?"

The three of them trickled into the alley behind him, finding the broad mage holding a smaller man against the wall by a fisted shirt. Fenris vaguely recognized him as the warehouse supervisor - a ratlike man who fidgeted far too much for his taste.

 

"I don't know what you're talking about," The man - Marcus - was quick to deny. His reedy voice trembled in a way that made Hawke’s gaze sharpen.

"It's a bit late for that," he demurred, "we know you know _something,_ it's just a matter of how much trouble you want to bring down before spitting it out.~" Marcus glared at them, lips thinning. Hawke backed off, brushing down the front of his shirt with a heavy hand that inspired a small flinch.

"Come on now Marcus. You know me! I always pay well for information. Or, of course, we could always just dismiss that fun part and go straight for the 'I'm going to make your insides into your outsides' part. I'm afraid I'm in a bit of a rush today so you'll need to make your mind up right about now."

Marcus shot an acidic look at Kirkwall's Champion, tucking his head in a belligerent gesture. "Southmost dock, some suspicious looking guys have been acting like they've got something to hide." He clicked his tongue, glaring at the other three and muttering under his breath. "Not like you're the first one to threaten my life over this shit. Everyone else this week is a regular, or part of Meredith's stock." Fenris watched as the pale eyes were drawn down to the tense flexing of clawed gauntlets.

"You tried to hide them," Fenris accused, metal scraping metal as his fists clenched.

"Fenris, maybe he doesn't know what those bastards are doing." Hawke dropped the man. "Doesn't make his decision any smarter, but we have bigger fish to fry. Come on." He pushed a silver coin into Marcus' hand and quickly started making his way towards the southernmost docks.

Fenris lingered a beat longer than Marcus was probably comfortable with, but did eventually turn to follow, letting the shaken man tuck the sovereign away. He practically prowled, stalking in their shadows with that unsettling anxiety focusing into something sharper - resolved.

There would be death on his sword, tonight.


	3. We will stand. We will fight.

Battles were always chaotic.

It never really mattered if you had come up with a plan beforehand, because it would inevitably be thrown to shit as soon as the first opponent stepped forward. Knowing this, Hawke rarely even stopped to make a plan of attack in the first place. Some (notably; Avaline) called this short sighted and foolhardy. Others; namely, Hawke, didn’t seem to care. It worked. 

 

Two men in dark Tevinter garb stood guard, and that’s all Hawke needed to know.

His magic lashed out, gripping the men with telekenetic force and tossing them almost casually across the street, into the harbor. That taken care of, another blast crunched the wooden door to splinters and gave them access to the torchlit innards, and the traffickers within. 

A small group of children sat huddled in a corner, wide eyed and roped together by the wrists and ankles. The eldest didn't look to be more than twelve, even if one was generous in their guess. 

Before the others could do more than lift their weapons, Fenris was already tearing in with a shout. Lyrium flared brightly across his skin, crackling somewhere between blue fire and electricity. The smell of lightning snapped in his wake, and he relished the surprised, horrified look on the first man to fall under the brutal swing of a greatsword. 

Something in the back of his mind- a part that encouraged the lethal ferocity snapping through his veins- wondered if this was how he had been made a slave. No- it didn't matter. They would die regardless.

Aveline followed close behind Fenris. She couldn't move nearly as quick as the elf could, but her sword and shield were plenty focused. Out of the corner of his eye, Fenris spotted a spell being prepared by one of the Tevine, but the mage’s actions were abruptly halted when a curl of Hawke’s magic lifted her from the ground, strangling with the weight of the damned Fade itself.

Varric, was quick to slip into the room, skirting the edges and firing his crossbow with dexterous fingers and a keen eye for targets. Fenris pulled his attention away from his comrades, ducking out of the way of a skilled swordsman’s lunge. He barely missed his shoulder being skewered, but a half-beat later he felt blood mist across his arm as a crossbow bolt plunged through the side of the man’s head. 

He felt the hair on the back of his neck raise as someone shouted, and Avaline raised her voice in return, barrelling over them with her shield and plunging her sword down once they’d fallen. The noise certainly caught the group’s attention, and Fenris punished them for the slip, even as the woman’s sturdy armor shrugged off a volley of arrows, shield raised against what could have pierced the joints.

Fenris bared his teeth, feeling blood splash and drip across his cheek as his blade removed the head from what was once an armored man. His ear twitched, the rustle of cloth detected, and his clawed fist punched into the chest of a duel-wielding man just as a crossbow bolt snapped through his chest. Instead of dropping the new corpse, he twisted around to use it as a meaty shield, enjoying the horrified look on a slaver's face as his own blade sliced into his compatriots abdomen. Again, Varric's aim struck true, and Fenris shook off the body, lunging up into the air to bring his greatsword down. 

He felt his Lyrium twist and spark as Hawke's magic brushed past him, the metaphysical touch as reassuring as it was uncomfortable. His blood sang, claws splayed at the ready as he lifted his sword to block a blow, his greater strength shoving the man back.

"Are you the next fool eager to die?" He taunted, lashing out with his claws and only missing because he had to abort the move early to avoid a poorly aimed bolt. Not from the dwarf, but- he turned, another archer taking aim and-

The archer was lifted into the air, along with another next to him. Then slammed down. Fenris could practically hear their ribs snapping from across the room.

Fenris snarled- mostly at himself- when his jerk was less than graceful, pulling his sword up to guard against the man's swing. The block turned into a wide arc, and steel cut cleanly through hide armor and bone. The smell of blood was strong- both on himself and in the room at large. He saw Varric fire off several bolts in succession, and the targets dropped. Far fewer humans remained, now. Fenris lunged back to Avaline, putting his hand through the back of a man's head just as he crouched for his own lunge. Half solidified, he could feel his armor twist and scramble the gore inside, blood sliding into the crevices of the metal as he ripped free. 

One by one, the slavers would be whittled down. They were at the end, until all that was left was one very angry mage, hobbled from a bolt in his thigh. It would have been nothing for Hawke to take him down and leave him at their mercy for questioning.

Abruptly, Fenris felt the pull of Hawke's magic, jerking their small party away from. He sucked in a gasp, muscles seizing up for a moment as foreign magic scraped across his Lyrium.

Then, almost simultaneously, the hobbled mage burst into a mass of flames. Hot enough, and wild enough that everyone in the room could feel it on their faces. A few children screamed, and Fenris heard Varric snap out a curse.

The elf stumbled to his knee, shielding his face with an arm from the flame. Varric likewise stumbled, but kept his feet, his reproachful look changing into wariness as he followed Hawke's gaze.

One of the elves, a tiny little girl with black hair and light brown skin had her hands out in front of herself, pointed shakily at the smoldering corpse even as bright flames curled up along the path that led to her, sputtering in little jolts of energy. Behind her, a nearly identical child clutched the girl’s back, face turned from the flame, but fingers clenched tightly in the girl’s tunic. 

Hawke approached carefully, and even from his distance Fenris could see the dazed, frightened expression of the little mage. Hawke slowly reached out, by all means looking like he was trying to pet a cornered dog, and gently lowered the small hands. The girl’s eyes followed his hands, and the flames abruptly died out. Smoke curled acrid, cloaking the warehouse in a blanket that smelled of burnt flesh and the tang of magic. 

The girl started tipping forward, hastily caught by Hawke’s arm and the startled grab of the twin behind her. Said sibling immediately started lashing out at the large human, shrieking through the hazy silence and beating tiny fists against his arms, lunging forward with a quiet snarl. Sharp teeth met leather bracers, and the twin abruptly halted, tears raising up in dark green eyes. Hawke didn’t even have to act, just shifting the tiny mage to a proper cradle as her sister fell to her knees and wept. 

Aveline straightened up, holstering her sword as the other children made similar little noises, everyone too scared and tense to properly freak out. 

"Well... This is a right mess."


	4. Retrieve, Return

"Well... This is a right mess."

Fenris watched them from afar, nodding sharply with Aveline's assessment. They were elves, but... He flickered his claws intangible, shaking a line of spattered blood off them. He hooked his sword away and hesitated, hand fluttering upward as if he wanted to wipe off his cheek before dropping it and folding his arms. 

"Another mage, driven to destroy." The observation felt hollow in his mouth, sympathy for elves and hatred of slavers twisting unpleasantly against the knee-jerk rejection of magic. He scowled, hunching his shoulders and stepping forward to help Hawke. The little mage was unconscious, at least. Surely they weren't all children of magic. 

He had expected the frightened flinches of the children before they came, but- no, he had no right to feel guilty of what he was. Fenris shoved the anger down, ignoring the dark fluid still clinging to his skin as his footsteps brought him closer.

He paused at the cleared throat behind him, letting Varric push in front of him to run fingers gently over the dusty floorboards and pull up a cleverly disguised trigger to dismantle. Once pointed out, his eyes could follow the taut string to explosive barrels, and his scowl deepened.

Hawke was still focused on the children, trying to calm the ones around him. Fenris twitched in automatic defense of him when he saw the twin sibling lunge at his outstretched hand, sharp little teeth digging into the meat of his hand. The man flinched slightly, but Fenris was relieved that it was unlikely both children had magic, if biting was her first defense. 

 

He heard Aveline call from the back, "Varric, is that all of the traps? I don't want any of the little ones getting hurt any more than they may be already."

"Hold up a moment, beautiful - I'm not all-knowing just yet." Varric chuckled, twisting his fingers to dismantle the trigger without setting it off. He edged around the kids, sharp eyes searching in every shadow. "Ah-there we go," he pulled another wire up, an eyebrow raising as it trailed right behind Hawke's feet. Another few inches shorter stride, and they'd be a bit more charcoaled than was strictly comfortable.

"That's a bit too close to crispy fried, my friend."

Hawke only looked down at the string with a startled expression, giving Varric a sheepish grin as the girl tried biting harder, actually growling at them around the mouthful. Well, as much as a squeaky voiced child could actually growl.

Varric tossed out a warning about the spikes hidden just under the stairwell leading to the upper storage rooms, but left them alone. He dismantled the remaining traps around the kids, pretending not to notice Fenris' hovering. 

Aveline waited patiently for the all clear before heading toward the other side of the huddled group and began to cut away their bindings. She spoke softly with them, asking names, about their parents and if they were ready to go home. A few of them didn't seem to speak very well yet, but they were all at least old enough to grasp the idea.

Through soft coaxing and countless reassurances as the other children were comforted and drawn away from their tied up, huddled mass, the elvhen child gingerly opened her mouth, releasing Hawke’s bloodied hand. 

"She's going to be just fine” he repeated, pulling out a small knife and carefully cutting the ropes tying their arms. “Just tuckered herself out, alright?" 

The green eyed twin nodded tightly, hunching down and pressing herself against her unconscious sister the moment she was freed. Her black hair was bristled up, gaze snapping quickly between Hawke, the sharp knife, and her sibling as she wiped a smudge of blood onto her sleeve from the corner of her mouth. 

Varric got to work regaling the children with assurances and light hearted jokes, and somehow ended up with a lap full of a sobbing elvhen child, barely older than a toddler. His broad hand patted the head of a slightly older boy, letting him bury his face against the thick layers of his armor as well.

"Hey now, we're here to take you home. It's all good, yeah? No one is hurt, right?" He glanced up at Fenris, but the elf was already circling the group, claws tap-tapping together as he tried to find something to do that wasn't childcare. That could  be ‘guarding the perimeter’, right?

Hawke picked the twins up, bringing them close. The bitey one struggled briefly, before settling in with a suspicious glare at his bearded chin. Privately, the man thanked the Maker that she hadn’t gone for his jugular. He surveyed the room, before heading for the door. 

"Well, I imagine we should be getting back to the alienage, shouldn't we? Assuming we've gathered everyone?"

Fenris didn't have time to answer before he found himself surrounded, a few older children apparently deciding he was familiar enough in features that he was a safe bet to approach. Blood or not. 

"Messere? Why don't you have shoes? Mama says that only poor men don't wear shoes. ...I don't like shoes."

Hawke laughed as Fenris shot them a wary look, practically freezing in place. "I... Don't like shoes either." His voice was stiff, shoulders stiff, spine stiff, everything just... frozen. He honestly had no idea how to deal with this. Didn’t know how to talk to them. A child reached out to touch his arm, and he twitched back, startling a yelp and jump out of one of them. He looked for Hawke, eyes wide and pleading as he tried not to hurt one of them by pushing them away. Not that he'd want to, but- how breakable were children anyway? 

Varric snorted at him, scooping up his own sniffling child and letting another grab onto two of his fingers.

Aveline seemed to have wrangled the majority of them into following or holding onto her. Hawke gave Fenris a gentle smile, "They're harmless, promise. Tell them what to do and they'll follow. After all, you are their hero."

"Are you going to bring us home, messere?" The same boy asked.

White hair fluffed up a bit more, scowl looking faintly betrayed at Hawke's casual treatment of this all. He didn't  _ like  _ being touched. His hands were literally  _ designed  _ for killing- for harming and destruction and- his shoulder twitched as a small hand grabbed onto one of his gauntleted fingers. His gaze snapped down, instantly worried the sharp spines would cut careless fingers. His silence had apparently been taken as assent, because now he had another child hugging up next to his leg, eyeing his bare feet speculatively. 

"Yes." He finally answered, voice a bit strangled. "We'll follow Hawke's lead, alright?" The children nodded in agreement (one of them not even paying attention, fidgeting with the leather straps that secured his chestplate). Varric visibly held back several teasing comments, deciding discretion was the better part of valor, and Fenris knew was probably counting himself in that "we" that would follow Hawke’s lead.

They led the gaggle of kids out into the road, Varric moaning about the children's weight and dramatically dragging his feet to elicit laughter. It also had the helpful secondary effect of distracting one of the kids away from Fenris, and placing the twitchy elf in the center of their little herd.

At some point one of the kids had kicked off one of his ragged shoes, one hand carrying the pair while the other clung to a dangerously sharp gauntlet. He kept tripping as he tried to watch Fenris walk instead of his own path, using his grip on the armor to tug himself back upright.

If anyone were to look, though silent, Fenris' expression had crossed far past "uncomfortable" and well into the territory of "internally endless yelling".

Hawke and Aveline took the lead, making sure the trip wasn't longer than necessary. Even so, the sun was truly set by the time they got back into Lowtown proper, stars gleaming above, torch and candle light flickering below.

 

The boy who had taken off his shoes shot off at a dead sprint as they approached, bare feet slapping the well-worn stone and shouting for his mother. She bolted out of her home a moment later, sweeping him up into a spinning hug, clutching him desperately. His shoes tumbled unnoticed from his grasp as he hugged back. 

 

The commotion attracted the attention of other worried parents, and soon children and adults were running every which way, coming to collect their offspring and make sure they were alright. Some, more exuberant than others, Hawke noticed. The feeling of relief for their safety was slightly offset by.. some sort of wistfulness? It wasn't for the children themselves, But... the way their parents swooped in with worry. The way their hugs were tight enough to make bones creak, but happily received all the same. The tone that they said each other's names in.  It only took a few minutes before all the children had been collected, joyous words and laughter audible even through walls.

 

All the children, except two. 

 

Hawke didn't realize until the commotion had died down, but no one had come to sweep them out of his arms. The little bitey elf hadn't even tried squirming away, just laying quietly and watching the other children with a distant expression. 

Hawke felt an odd sort of apprehension, looking about for someone who, perhaps, was a bit late on the uptake? The tiny mage stirred where she was curled into his shoulder when Varric stepped in close, asking the sisters if they could point them to where they lived. Finding a house, after all, was easier than hunting down a person.

The bitey one pointed toward a darkened house at the corner of the Alienage. Worn, yes, but no worse than any of the other tightly packed homes. He recognized the doorless house to the right of it as the building that had been used by hunters to lure out Fenris, so many moons ago.

Hawke frowned, twisting to hand the girls off to Avaline, but tiny fingers dug into his clothes, and it was probably personal weakness that he submitted so easily to their will. Taking the hint, Avaline approached the house and knocked heavily on the wooden door. They waited a beat, listening closely or any sign of movement or sound from behind it. 

Nothing. 

“I'll get it.” Varric stepped forward,nimble fingers pulling out his thin tools for lockpicking. 

After brief moment he paused, frowning. "It's already unlocked," he said, and twisted the door open.

"Well, that bodes well doesn't it." Hawke murmured, chills sliding down his spine. "Normally I would go in myself but..."

Aveline held up a hand, "It's fine Hawke, we can handle it."

Fenris reached up to grab his sword, but Varric made an abortive gesture. "It's a bit tight in there for you to be swinging around your sword, broody. Queen bee or I will shout if we need help."  Fenris opened his mouth to object before snapping it shut and looking away, nodding shortly. Hawke having his arms full of children meant he had no hands to defend himself, and they'd been attacked in the alienage before.

The wind picked up for a moment, scattering dust across the packed ground, whispers of leaves muffling the world for a long moment. 

Varric and Avaline stepped carefully into the darkened entranceway, floorboards creaking under their combined weight. Avaline tightened her grip on her sword, the familiar metallic bite telling her nose blood had been spilled. 


	5. We have each other

Varric stepped inside, feet as light as possible as his eyes began to adjust.

Inside was the signs of a clear struggle. Chairs knocked sideways, scuffs on the wooden walls, and the remains of a few decorative objects shattered across well-worn floorboards.

The deep, metallic smell of blood clouded the air, and he had to stop himself from twitching when he realized the pile of blankets he was ready to step over was actually a corpse.  
Wide, blank eyes stared up at him through the gloom, the reflective shine of elvhen pupils still managing to gleam green in the low light. Shining like tiny coins.

He stepped back, muttering a soft curse under his breath and warning Avaline to watch her step before prowling deeper into the shadows.  
Varric found another body in the back corner, bearing similar wounds as the first. Sliced, stabbed - someone with either very sharp swords or exceptional strength. With an unhappy twist of his stomach, he realized he recognized the vacant gold eyes of the elf woman, the same shape and color as the little mage outside.   

Satisfied that there was no one in the little hovel (and really, there wasn’t much space for anyone to hide to begin with) - Varric retrieved his flint and struck a shower of sparks over the still-warm stub of a candle that had been burnt down instead of put out.

As the warm yellow glow cast the room in flickering shadows, Avaline sighed in frustration and sadness.

“The only ones who did notice what was happening, I imagine. Or at least - the only ones who tried to do something about it." Her lips were pulled in a thin line as she stepped around the blood, eyeing the shattered pottery on the ground as she tried to reconstruct the struggle in her mind. Varric began searching for more clues.

"Not a good thing, parents being killed. So: Captain of the Guard, what's our next move?" He tracked around the home, carefully opening cupboards and checking bags and baskets.  "Do you think we got all of them, or is some slaver going to pop up one night to spirit the kids away again?" She rested her hand on her hip, kneeling down and carefully going through the small bag hanging off the father’s hip, finding nothing of note. A few coins, what looked like a business ledger, and a small bundle of ginger candies. Avaline stood up again, taking a look around the room. Two beds - one for the parents, and one for the twin girls. A table. She wandered over to the table, gently turning over a small sheaf of papers to find a pair of small knives. Hunting knives, if she wasn’t mistaken. Every home in Kirkwall probably had some sort of blade, so it wasn’t terribly helpful.

"Given how many were there, I'd like to hope we did get them all.” She adjusted her sword absently. “I'll stay here for the remainder of the night to ensure the Alienage isn’t defenseless if someone does come back. I don't know about those girls though. Kirkwall doesn't have a proper orphanage, and the Circle will only take the mage.” Avaline frowned.

“I can't say it would be right to just leave the girls to whatever Darktown might have in store, and if no one came out to find them, I’m worried they may not have family to take them in. No friends inquired after them. Do you think anyone around here would be willing to take them? Or, at least one of them?"

Aveline stared vacantly at the edge of one of the pools of blood, starting the report in her mind.

"Not sure it would be kinder to break ‘em up at this point." Varric pointed out somberly. "Not after all this."  He stepped toward the smaller bed, pausing at a shattered mug.  Something about it... he crouched down, gently picking up a shard and turning it over. Nothing visually, the texture was fine, so why-?

Aveline sighed, "Of course not, but... Someone is going to find out about her eventually. The templars have never been stricter. Would it really be that kind to delay the inevitable?"

"Try explaining that to Hawke. I can already tell you he won't like the idea - certainly didn't like the option when it was his own family." He looked up, noting the other mug sitting on the counter, full of cold tea.

"Well what other choice does he have? I'm sure... Hawke will have to understand. He's not unreasonable."

Varric picked it up, sniffing it delicately before talking mostly to himself.

"Well, that's how they snuck in, I guess. Easy as cake to do a kidnapping when everyone is dead asleep. Except, maybe, for the ones who sat around chatting instead of actually drinking before bed."

Aveline tilted her head curiously, gingerly approaching to see what he had found.

"With how much the alienage has been hounded lately I suppose it's no surprise so few people were still awake. Or is there something about the mug?"

Varric sighed, gently placing the mug back down and rubbing his finger over the rim of the cup. "Sleeping agent. Not on the cup, though.” Avaline was quick to check the little keg of water tucked in the corner, opening the tab and letting some fall into her glove, lifting it to smell the faintly bitter tang.  
“I’ll get one of my men to check the Alienage’s well. If someone poisoned it, I want to know who.”

Varric nodded to her statement, glancing toward the door.

“Shall we report, then? It's probably best we get these two cleaned up and out of the way before the kids are allowed to grab any belongings. Rough or not, the alienage isn't as bad as this normally." He stepped over a shard of rough clay ceramic, padding back through the door. "Probably ought  to warn everyone to be careful with the water" He raised his hand "I vote your guards do it."

 

"I'll take care of it. You talk to Hawke. He's more likely to listen to you then he is me." Aveline headed out with the dwarf, nodding to Hawke and Fenris before heading back into Lowtown proper to find some of her men to assign.

 

Hawke looked up, meeting Varric’s eye.

 

"It's... not good" Varric murmured, once he was within earshot. He held up two fingers and drew his thumb across his throat, effectively communicating the deaths while the girls backs were turned

 

\---

 

As soon as the two stepped into the home, the amber eyed girl leaned in to whisper in Hawke’s ear, tugging on his beard. The man quirked a small smile, tilting his head to listen.

Fenris felt his ear prick, turning slightly toward the child despite keeping his eyes determinedly facing away. He caught a few syllables, but not enough to make sense until Hawke spoke back.

"You and your sister have very pretty names. I'm Hawke. Would you like to introduce yourself to Fenris?" The girl paused, clearly thinking it over before giving a tiny nod.

"I'm Ishale," she placed her hand on her chest before pointing to her still quiet, more bitey sister, "and that's Eluvean."

Fenris awkwardly bobbed his head, paused, then croaked out "nice to meet you" in return.

She tilted her head, "Messere Fenris, why are you scared?" Ishale was open in her curiosity, but her body still drooped with exhaustion from her earlier overexertion of mana. Hawke's and Eluvean's hold on her seemed to be doing most of the work keeping her steady. The girl looked ready to drop in spite of her sharp, bright amber eyes on Fenris' own green.

Fenris willed himself to relax a bit, running his cleaner hand through white hair to calm it down. "I am not scared." He stated, though his shoulders were still tight.

"You don't lie very good messere Fenris. ...Don't worry! I bet that you and your friends could do anything! Even... Even hunt dragons!" Ishale threw up her free hand, being as enthusiastic as her tired body would let her.

Hawke missed the question, too busy catching Varric’s eye. His grip on the girls tightened as he waited for Varric to perhaps divulge more than just a gesture. When he noticed Aveline marching about like a woman on a mission, he seemed to deflate a bit.

"How bad is not good?" He whispered it so quietly that Varric would nearly need to read his lips. Eluvean's focus quickly swiveled around to narrow in on the dwarf. Ishale didn't seem to notice the exchange at all, preoccupied with grilling Fenris.

 

Varric noticed Eluvean's focus, giving her a soft, sympathetic duck of his head. Maker, he hated when this happened to kids. .

"Looks like the parents of everyone found themselves a bit drugged last night - I found strong sleeping agent in the water. That's why no one jumped to their rescue right away." He nodded at the green eyed elf, hoping she would be distracted before he gave the verdict. When she didn't waver, he sighed, knowing they'd find out sooner or later. "Their parents... weren't. They put up a struggle -trying to protect you," he added, hoping it would soften the implication.

 

Eluvean shrunk, from head to toe she drew herself inward, "They hurt mama a lot. And papa. They… “

Hawke frowned, eyes growing soft.

"I see... I suppose that answers a lot of questions. ...Rotten monsters." He turned his head slightly, to Eluvean.

"Do you have any uncles or aunts here in Kirkwall sweetheart?"

She shook her head, face slowly scrunching up as blotchy distress spread across her face..

"Right, of course not... Well, what now, I wonder?" Hawke started thinking on the answer himself, placing his chin on Eluvean's head as she curled up into his chest.

Varric shrugged with a grimace, knowing there wasn't exactly an orphanage laying around Lowtown.

"Maybe a friend of the family? It's better than the alternative." The dwarf looked up at Hawke's unhappy expression, suspecting where his thoughts were headed.

"Unless you wanted to once again, try to save everyone yourself."

"Well the Maker is a right bastard isn't he? Let's... Ugh. The family friend thing isn't a bad idea and I'd be all over it but..." He turned his head again towards Ishale, looking worried. "I don't imagine there's many people willing to deal with an untamed mage. Or capable of it, for that matter." This finally got the girl's attention, and she turned to Hawke.

"What's going on, messere Hawke? Is my hair messy?" She patted down her hair, but seemed to slow down when Hawke's expression failed to change. "It's... Not huh? ...Does this... Does this have to do with mama and papa? Eluvean said that mama and papa couldn't save us, even though mama was really strong...I… I was sleeping, I don’t- Why are you making that face? Elu?”

Fenris reached his breaking point. The restless twist and prickle had come back with a vengeance, and Hawke's careful regard of the children was really only making it worse. At this point, there was really nothing he could do, and he did Not want to be the target of a baby mage's attention. One Fade sympathizer in his life was plenty, thanks. Two if you counted Anders, which he certainly didn't.

"Do you need anything else?" He took a step back, ready to turn and (flee) RETURN to his manor. He didn’t have anything else to contribute to this.

Hawke looked past the child to Fenris for a moment. "Huh? Oh... I suppose not. It might be a bit, but I'll be around later, Fenris. I was hoping to talk with you for... A little while." Hawke couldn't say he really wanted Fenris to go, but he couldn't honestly stop him either.

Fenris nodded shortly, turning on his heel and heading out of the alienage. The prospect of talking sounded... well, he wasn't sure. Slavers popping up in Kirkwall, being so blatant as this, it didn't bode well.

 

Ishale looked towards Varric instead when Hawke got distracted from her question.

Varric reached out, offering to hold her hand.

"I'm sorry, sweetie, the bad people hurt your parents. They're...gone. I'm afraid they're not coming back." She looked at him, looked past him, tiny hand sitting limp between his fingers as she looked at her sister. The other girl’s pointed ears were bright red, shoulders hunched as she hid behind her dark hair, tucked against the human’s chest. Eluvean’s shoulders hitched in a silent hiccup

Ishale melted into a sobbing mess in a matter of moments, clinging onto Hawke like there was no tomorrow.

Hawke hushed them both, despite Eluvean keeping fairly quiet. It was more the feeling behind the gesture that counted anyway.

Varric squeezed Ishale’s hand, trying to offer some sort of comfort.

"So?" He murmured, looking up at Hawke, "do you have a plan?"

"...I don't think I have a lot of options here Varric. Not without being cruel and... Well, I think I've had about enough cruelty for one day." Hawke offered a weak smile to the other, "And don't worry, this won't get in the way of our weekly games of Wicked Grace."

"Oh, well, that's fine then. All is well as long as I can whoop your ass in cards." Varric's lips twisted in an unhappy smile, the expression quickly falling as the other child sobbed breathlessly.

It was always hard to give bad news.

"Taking them up to Hightown, then?"

Eluvean squirmed until Hawke put her down, though she didn't go anywhere.

Hawke nodded, "After we let them get their things... And say goodbye, of course." He redoubled his attention on Ishale, the girl all but demanding it with her arms around his neck.

"Probably not a good idea for now." Varric set his hand down on Eluvean's head, petting her hair and giving small shushing noises. She used her free hand to wipe at her face, but was still eerily quiet. Had he not been paying her attention, he probably would have missed her soft voice.

"W-will you help me get our things, serah?" It was wispy and high pitched, and surprisingly even, all things considered.

Varric knelt, offering a handkerchief from his bag to wipe her tears. "Of course I will, sweetheart. I'll be with you every step of the way."

Ishale refused to detach from Hawke long enough to do much. Eluvean seemed… detached, somehow. Her eyes stared at nothing, hands clutching whoever was closest.

Varric saw her lips move, and leaned in to hear what she was saying.

"...It's sad. But... Kind of good too. Papa would have given Ishale away. Papa was scared of lots of things. Like the wild Dalish elves, and mama's swords, and dogs. And magic. Especially magic. Serah Hawke isn't afraid of anything though, I think."

Hawke shifted Ishale as Donnic approached from the house, slinging the bag the man offered over his shoulder. Supplies, probably. Keepsakes from the house while it was cleaned. Avaline was nothing if not thorough.

Hawke sighed, slowly starting to head toward Hightown with the girls in tow. They were… so small. Too young for this.  

Avaline returned to oversee the cleaning of the house, and Varric sidled over to her side, asking quietly if he needed to grease any palms or threaten to keep the Chantry from finding out about the girls. Her guards may be good men, but mistrust for mages also ran deep. Even if no one dared speak out against Hawke, not everyone held him in the brightest regard. Even without knowing about their mini mage, a powerful mage adopting two children, disregarding procedure? It might tempt some. He'd like to avoid that.

She frowned, giving a small shake of her head.

"If we can’t find any family, I’m sure Hawke's perfectly willing to do all the paperwork... I'm more than a little worried about Meredith though. If she catches wind of this before it's finalized, I have no doubt she'll get in the way. ...This is dangerous, one way or another."

 

"That just means we have to distract her!" Varric gave Aveline a more genuine smile, already plotting. Simple problems would be the fastest. A bit of subtle sabotage - easily fixed, but urgent enough to make it to her table.

"Varric, I can never tell if you're a saint, or an unforgivable hooligan." Aveline rested her hand on her pommel and sighed.

"As bad an idea I think it may be... Perhaps some good will come of it. Hawke has been getting bitterer and and more quiet, since what happened to Leandra. Maybe... Maybe this is just what he needed."

"I could be both~" Varric winked. Avaline reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath, "Of course they had to be twins though. I'm certain that influenced his decision."

His good mood (it was always a good day when mischief was endorsed) fell away at the acknowledgment of Hawke's probable reasons to take this personally.

"Keep an eye on him. Like you said, he's probably not thinking clearly about this."

 

"I will. I'm sure we all will." Aveline watched the lights flicker from within the home, before looking up to see the stars through the alienage’s foliage, "You should probably get him moving, on that note. With how late the man stays up, I doubt he's going to pay attention to the time."

 

Varric found Hawke had stopped on the steps of Lowtown, kneeling down to try to gather Eluvean in his arms as well, struggling as she fussed and pushed away. Varric nodded, jogging up to the trio and offering his hand to hold. The girl took his hand, hunching her shoulders and quieting again as Hawke stood up with a faintly pained expression.

  
The walk to Hightown was about as quiet as it could get. Hawke had been doing a very through job 'discouraging' the criminal elements lately, so they didn't run into any trouble, at least. He thanked Varric at his doorstep, wishing him a good night and ushering himself inside. Hawke spared the minimal greetings for Orana, Bodahn, Sandal, and even Max. When the dog followed him upstairs, Hawke was admittedly tempted to take the great beast's help. Discretion was probably better for now however, this was something best handled on his own. He shooed the pooch off and headed into his bedroom, the door left cracked open behind them.

Hawke set the girls down on his bed, letting Eluvean scramble away and stare at him suspiciously, pulling her hiccuping sister with her.

“Sorry.” He whispered. “I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.” His knees ached a little from kneeling on his hardwood floor, resting his elbows on the bed, but he didn’t want to scare them further than he already had.

The two of them let him tug back the blankets, gingerly draping them over the two, like he was trying not to startle away two skittish cats.

 

There was still a question of where to start. If Avaline would find a friend, or a family member somewhere in the Alienage. Until then… they were alone.  

He could sort of relate, at least. With a sigh, he crumpled down against the side of the bed, turning to face the far wall. Maybe, like cats, they’d feel more comfortable if he wasn’t looking at them. He had no idea how to handle children, what was he even thinking?

 

"...I'm sorry. ...You're safe here, okay? I'm not going anywhere." Half as much to prove his point as to settle in, he removed his boots and whatever other, heavier parts of his armor that he could without standing up or thrashing too much. He stayed put on the floor, feeling exhaustion weighing on his own shoulders.

  
After what seemed like hours, he heard them rustle around in the covers behind him, Ishale’s sniffles fading away. Hawke peeked over his shoulder, moonlight streaming in through his barred window to cast streaks of silver across two sleeping children, curled tightly together under the large blankets.  

 

Hawke slept lightly that night, sprawled across the floor.


	6. Unfair

Eluvean didn't move right away when she woke up. Things were very warm, and she had Ishale with her. Things were off and wrong though. Ishale was stiff and still. This wasn't their little bed. There was someone else too. They were making a strange sound. Rough and repeating. Was it a dog? Papa didn't like dogs... It wasn't getting closer at least. It's weight didn't move at all, just like Is didn't. Eluvean squeezed her eyes closed tighter.  
The smells were all wrong too. No one was making breakfast. The bustle of the morning market wasn't there, and the light streaming in was too bright - not at all dappled by shifting leaves. Is started trembling like those leaves, whimpering and gasping and pressing against her sister tighter.

This disrupted the weight next to them, it's sounds stopping. Not a dog. A person sighed and hushed them gently, an arm wrapping around them and squeezing. They, a man, the man from last night, sat up and lifted her and her sister into his lap. "It's okay... You're safe. 'M sure it's a lot different than you're used to, but I promise you're safe." He smoothed his hand down their hair, Eluvean first and then Ishale. "No one will ever take you anywhere you don't want to go and... Nobody else will die for a very long time. I promise."

Eluvean stiffened up when he moved her and made yesterday catch up to her. Yesterday was ugly. He was promising prettier things at least. Still though, "I wanna go home to mama and papa."

"I know." The man kept his voice soft.

Next to her, her sister took a shaky breath and low whine crept out of her throat. Eluvean opened her eyes as Ishale's little arms shot out to push hard against the human's chest, thrashing clumsily to escape the big arms. For being big, they didn't hold on very well at all, and they both darted off the bed, flying toward the door. Towards home. Is got there first, her fingers grasped the door handle and Elu could see how she pulled on it with all her body.

The man was close behind though, big arms hurriedly scooping them up again. "Hey, hey... We'll go back to your house okay? I'll take you back, but you need to wait for just a second so I can put my shoes on." He'd put them down again shortly after, to do just that. The human's eyes followed them though, amber and sharp and waiting. He released them slowly, making Ishale thrash and whine even more for a second. But only a second. "...Your mama and papa wouldn't want you running around all alone right?"

It was pointless to try and run from someone so much stronger and bigger than them. The human was right, after all too. Papa and mama said it wasn't safe to go places all alone. Did he know mama and papa? She'd never seen him before yesterday, she was sure about that at least.

Eluvean held onto her sister's hand after being put down. It was strange when her sister plopped down to the floor like a rock but at least she didn't let go. Nevertheless, Eluvean whined to the other, putting at her hand and arm insistently. The man finished getting his shoes on and rushed back over to pat her head while shaking his.  
"Eluvean? Eluvean, cutie, let her sit okay? She'll be okay." He'd sit down next to her bundled sister. "Ishale, you don't need to answer okay? Just listen for a second... Do you remember what you did yesterday? With the fire? ...I can do that too. I remember that it was the scariest thing in the whole world when I did it the first time. But I'm still here now, and I know how to use it so it's not so scary."

Ishale dropped Eluvean's hand, burying her face a little deeper and shaking her head desperately against her arms. A quiet, half strangled noise squeaked out of her throat, and Eluvean wondered distantly if she'd started crying. Did she want to cry? This had to be a dream, after all. Soon mama or papa would wake her up.

The human man didn't move but he did give the floor a little pat when looking at her. He wanted her to sit down too, so she did. Green eyes just stared blankly at her sister, watching as the man put a big hand on her back and started rubbing little circles into it.

Is smushed her face into her knees. All pulled so tight it seemed like any second she would explode. She spoke instead, "Hurts."  
So quiet and muffled against her legs that Elu had to strain to hear it.

The mage's hand, the one on Is started glowing. A pretty blue green glow that seemed to grow and shrink in time to the melody the man started humming. It was like a lullaby, but Elu didn't recognize it. "I know Ishale. I'm so sorry... I'm going to try and help the hurt, okay? I know it's the worst... But you aren't alone. Neither of you are alone."

Eluvean frowned slightly at the human's words. Not alone? Mama and papa were all gone but that didn't mean they'd be alone all time. They had each other, and Eluvean never went away from Ishale. With a sigh, the green eyed girl decided to lay down, curled up on the floor. Why didn't Ishale get up so they could go home? She'd been so ready to before...

"I want to go home." Her voice sounded less rough this time, but still quiet. Ishale peeked up at her with big, amber eyes. Softer, lighter colored eyes than the man had.

"Alright... Let's go then." Gently, he got them both to stand up. Gently, he pulled them into his big arms again. Then they walked. Eluvean didn't pay attention to the trip, closing her eyes against the daylight and strange places. She'd only open her eyes again when a familiar door swung closed and stuck.

The house felt wrong. And it was so, so quiet. Eluvean pushed through the house as soon as she was set down. Ishale followed behind her, scrunched up like something would jump out at get her. Elu looked and even checked under mama's and papa's bed. But nobody was there. It wasn't a dream. Not the metally smelling red patch on the floor by their bed. Or the missing fragile, pretty things that papa had liked which had probably been swept up by strangers. Strangers had been in their house. Eluvean fluffed up angrily. How dare they be in mama's and papa's house without anybody's permission!

Elu snapped, scrambling back past her sister, screaming at the top of her lungs, to the man waiting by the door. She threw herself on him and started hitting his chest. Had he let the strangers in? She couldn't remember. But she kept hitting him anyway and he only stopped her if she aimed at his face. So she didn't. There was plenty of other places to hit.

Eluvean didn't notice Ishale behind her, following to guard over her with their comforter wrapped around her like armor.

Eventually she just crumpled onto him, still screaming. Though the fire had all cooled in her belly and now all she was was scared. Carefully, he pulled her into a tight hug and while Eluvean wanted to still be angry, it was hard not to cling when it was offered. She'd dig her fingers into his shoulders and periodically pounded on them. It didn't help. Maybe she wasn't hitting hard enough.

  


Somewhere between a 'falling asleep' she didn't remember and 'waking up' to what was real now, Elu realized she'd been moved. It was their room, thankfully. Their bed. Ishale was next to her and slowly waking too, blankets pulled up around their chins. The familiar, dappled light in the hallway reassured her that not much time had gone by.

Eluvean peeked up at the human. He was still slumped against the headboard, an arm reaching out over their pillows like he was a great bird trying to keep them under wing. She noticed his eyes were still open, staring at something across the room. She wasn't sure what - there wasn't anything over there to look at but a wall. Ser Hawk. That was his name.

"What happened?" Ishale bravely broke the silence.

Eluvean could see the way the man flinched at her voice, looking back down at Ishale in their bundle suddenly. His eyes had seemed scary before but now they looked shiny and sad. He didn't answer right away, just looking at them. ...Or maybe through them, to some far off thing. He cleared his throat. "Ah, nothing much. You two just tired yourselves out, so I got you all settled and cozy in here. I hope that's alright?"

Ishale didn't look at him for long, instead turning to focus on her pillow and pluck at the fraying fabric. "I mean... what happened... here."

"Oh... Well... I actually forgot to ask. I was busy worrying over you and your sister. I'll find out as soon as I can okay? I'm friends with the Captain of the Guard, so I'm sure she can tell me. Or maybe Varric. He was the dwarf with us. He looked around last night, so I'll bet he knows." He looked away from the little elf with a sigh. "I am sure... They wanted to protect you from the bad people though. I'm sure they tried their very hardest."  
She remembered... Mama. Mama tried to stop the men. They hurt her for trying to stop them and then she didn't move. Papa was on the floor when they left but she never saw his face. He didn't move either. And then they were gone. Out of the Alienage with all the bad people. There were lots of other kids too. Eluvean and Ishale had been brave though. They didn't cry like the other kids.

Ishale jumped with a soft gasp when she heard the soft 'shsk' of the front door opening, ducking further under Ser Hawk's arm. Elu jumped hard too and so did Ser Hawk. Her sister dragged them closer together, and Eluvean pressed back against her without a second thought as soft leather boots made floorboards creak minutely. Hawk pulled them in against his side without hesitation too. It helped her feel a little safer from the feeling of not-safe-at-all.  
That didn't mean Ser Hawk wouldn't just be dead too.

"Oh, it's just you." The nice dwarf from yesterday stepped out carefully into the open, raising his empty hands to show that he wasn't a bad guy. The big arm holding Elu and her sister relaxed. After thinking for a few moments too long, she waved to him.  
He waved back, offering a soft, sad smile.

"Yeah... The girls wanted to come back for a while. Ah-" He looked down at the pair, gently nudging Ishale. "Do you still want to know what happened, Ishale? Varric can tell you. He helped save you and your sister yesterday and he's my best friend, so you can trust him."

Ishale gave a tiny nod, turning her head to hide her face a little in the blankets. She watched the dwarf warily.

The big human arm came back around them, and Elu could feel sharp eyes pressing against her and Is.

Varric raked a gloved hand through his hair, leaning against the edge of the bed. "You sure you want to know that, honey?"

Ishale gave another tiny nod, her lips pursing at the strange nickname he used for her. Eluvean pressed against her sister, trying to back her up. "I want to know too. Please?"

"Alright, alright." He sighed, shaking his head. "It's... well, I won't beat around the bush, since you already know the conclusion." He chewed the inside of his cheek and looked down for a moment. "Night before last, some pretty bad people came to town." Ishale was motionless like stone as she listened. "They tricked a bunch of people, and made them fall asleep for a bit, while they tried to steal kids. Like you. But," he looked back to them and continued, "your mom and dad were really smart, and figured out what was going on - they fought back." Ishale made a choked sound and turned to bury her face against Ser Hawk's shirt.

Varric paused, a pulse of sadness and pain crossing his face. "They fought really bravely, but there were too many bad people, and everyone else was sleeping. So... they tried really hard to protect you two. You meant the whole world to them, and so they didn't want anyone to take you away."

Eluvean pouted, thinking everything Varric was saying over. "How did they make everyone else fall asleep?"

Ser Hawk doubled over to hold them better, reaching around to pet Ishale's hair.

"We're not certain, but we're checking everything so we can make sure it doesn't happen again. Aveline has good men on the case."

Eluvean didn't find the answer very satisfying, but she nodded anyway. "Who's Aveline?"

"She's the Guard Captain. The red haired lady who was with us yesterday," Ser Hawk answered. "So Varric, hate to add onto this little interrogation, but what are you doing here?"

He looked at Ser Hawk now, cocking an eyebrow. "Frankly I ought to be asking you the same thing. Less than 24 hours, it's still being checked out. I saw movement and thought someone suspicious might have been snooping." He shrugged. "But it's only you- oh!" He snapped his fingers. "That reminds me. Broody's been driving himself up the wall about this, doesn't seem to want to listen to me, so when you get the time..." Varric hummed, not finishing what he had to say.  
That was a grown up thing. Elu thought it was confusing. At least the dwarf had a really nice voice. It was relaxed and calm and confident. Not scary.

"Like I said, these two wanted to come back for a little while." The human lifted the twins into his lap, still wrapped in their heavy green blanket. "I'll go as soon as I've got things settled down. ...Heh, now I get why some people wish they could be two places at once. That'd be awfully helpful right about now it seems."

"If wishes were gold, we'd all be rich." Varric mused.

Varric seemed to cheer Ser Hawk up too. He had a funny name, now that she thought of it. "Why are you a bird?" Eluvean looked up at the human with some confusion.

The dwarf grinned. "Nice observation, kid. His name's just Hawke, he's not really a bird - I don't think there's a connection?" He glanced at the man in askance.

Hawke chuckled, "Well, unless my father was keeping some very strange family secrets from me, there isn't a connection. Just Hawke- with an e at the end." He put a finger to his lips with a smirk, looking down at the elven twins. "The e is silent because it's a secret. But you two are special, so you can know about the secret e."

Ishale made a soft, grateful sound, and Eluvean knew that she'd liked the answer too. Is took a slow, shaky breath, lowering the blanket by fractions. "Are we... gunna sleep here still? Even though-"

The man mellowed again at the question, "I'm afraid not Ishale... We need to be out of the way so the guards can try and figure out where the bad people came from. ...But tell you what? You can go and grab anything you want and we'll take it back with us. We'll get all your things eventually, if we can't take it all with us today."

Eluvean leaned against Hawke- Hawke with a secret e- and whined. She didn't want to leave. Even if they took the whole thing. Varric helped her grab some stuffedies yesterday, but they wanted to come back too. "Will we ever get to come home forever?"

Hawke took a deep breath and sighed. "I'm sorry you two, I really am. ...But can't stay here anymore. There's nobody here to take care of you."

Eluvean exhaled a shuddering exhale, pressing her face fully into Hawke's shirt and shaking her head. _"I hate you,"_ she half-whispered into his shirt.

Hawke frowned as the little girl bunched up against him. His eyebrows bunched up and it seemed like he wanted to ask a question. "That's alright... You can hate me if you need too."

Eluvean curled up to cry more, glad for the blankets. She wanted to stay at home. Even if it wasn't safe, it was where they belonged. They just _couldn't_ go somewhere else. Not without mama or papa. And uncle wasn't in Kirkwall. The other elves hadn't stopped the human yet. There was no one to save them. Who would help set up the market stalls? Or braid their hair? Or go out and bring back berries? This wasn't _fair!  
_ She whined, shaking her head.

Varric hummed, giving a sympathetic expression. "You may just want to take them home, Hawke. I don't know much about kids, but... after this, they need some stability in their lives. I'll get as much as I can shipped up to Hightown for you."

"Yeah... Thanks a lot Varric. With any luck I'll be able to get them to eat something." The man unwrapped from them, getting his staff before picking them both up. Eluvean was glad he didn't make them get out of her blanket. "If not... Well, home is safer. If nothing else." With a tight hold on the pair, Hawke left the house and returned to Hightown.

 


	7. Doing the Rounds

There had to be _something._  
Fenris had scoured the docks that night, too on-edge to go back to his abode and try to sleep. He'd seen children before. He'd seen them in danger. Why had this group struck such a chord with him?

 _Because they were elves,_ his mind whispered traitorously. _Were you one of them, once? Did no one rescue you?_  
He kicked a few doors open perhaps harder than necessary, considering they weren't even locked. Empty warehouses. Empty ship holds. He found _nothing_.  
Fenris drove himself ever onward as the sun rose anew, expanding his search to the Wounded Coast, where they'd found slaver hideouts in the past.

Varric joined him for a short while, guarding his back as he disbanded a small group of lyrium smugglers, but no amount of witticisms and terrified surrenders could stop the furious _itch_ to carve open someone who deserved it.  
Evening fell, and his stomach twisted in hunger as he found himself back at the warehouse. A small group of templars were already inside, no doubt drawn by the reports of excessive destruction and magic during the night. The snap of the Fade likely still lingered.  
Fenris watched. Waited. He kept himself in shadow as the small group finished their investigations and departed, expressions malcontent. As if they'd be able to do anything, if they found out who had cast the bulk of the spells. Their Champion was all but immune to the directive that governed the rest of Kirkwall's apostates.

He sank back into the search, retracing steps and poking around every back door and half-hidden barrel for any scrap of a clue.

"Fenris! Are you in here?"

Fenris was halfway through drawing his sword when the owner of the voice registered. A flicker of guilt crept in, that he had made Hawke search all this way for him. Even more so since he was unable to find any clues that the slavers may have left behind.

It seemed to sloppy for them to have all of their members attack at once - surely there had been a runner, or a drop point for information. But... he couldn't find them. Fenris slid his sword back into place, stepping out from a side room he'd been scouring and drawing Hawke's attention. "I am here."

Hawke nodded, relief clear on his face as he waited for Fenris to approach.

"...You seemed troubled the other day. I guess none of this has made you feel any better?"

Fenris bristled with offended pride, opening his mouth to deny the accusation, before letting his breath out in a long gust, shoulders slumping.

"More focused, perhaps, but not... better." He reached up to push his bangs up away from his face, avoiding any eye contact by looking out toward where the children had been tied up. Pretended to look for meaning there.

The time they had spent together always perched on the back of his mind, when they were alone. The desperate ache to _belong_ somewhere, briefly satisfied and stolen away by heart-wrenching flickers of memory. He’d spent days trying to get more memories to come - more hints of a sister he’d only seen glimpses of, more knowledge, even if it was painful.

But nothing had come of it. Almost a year later, and nothing had come of it except a growing sense that he’d tossed aside the first _good_ that had come into his life for the sake of chasing ghosts. 

It was heavy and poignant and ached something fierce when Hawke had that quiet expression on his face, like he was remembering as well but didn’t want to speak up lest rejection come again. He’d broken the trust that had grown frail and fragile between them, by walking out without so much as a ‘goodbye.’

The real question, beyond the obvious ‘Do you want this?’ that nudged him back toward the man’s orbit, was ‘Do you deserve forgiveness for hurting him?’

And time and again, his conscious answered;

‘No.’

Fenris flattened his lips, reaching up to rake a claw under the corner of his jaw, dried blood itching a bit. "I..." He found his claws clicking together quickly in an anxious gesture, and forced himself to still. "I am tired."

Hawke frowned, brows furrowing to case deep shadows across already dark eyes.

"I... Alright, well if that's the case, you should probably be at home, not here. Varric and Aveline will keep their ears to the ground about this. If they pop up again, we'll know." Hawke offered a hand, a self deprecating smile easing his features. "Not that I can really talk, but getting some rest would probably do more good than running around at this point. Maybe I can hang around, guard your back so you can get a good night’s sleep?"

"I doubt I can sleep easy until every slaver in this place has been driven out or killed." The tone in his voice was sharp, though his eyes probably still looked exhausted behind dark smudges from lack of sleep. The tension slowly bled out of him a moment later, eyes closing as his head bowed. "Though I cannot I say I would not... appreciate," his claws clicked as he loosely clenched his fists, "a friend, staying for a while."

Friend sat wrong in his mouth - he wanted this to be more, he really did, but the guilt and insistent voice kept telling him he didn't even deserve a moments rest. Between what he’d been forced to do under Denarious’s hand, and what he’d done of his own violition… Free or not, he... just didn't deserve it. And he certainly didn't deserve someone like Hawke taking favor to him. Not after he’d already hurt the man for such an ephemeral reason, with no guarantee he wouldn't do it again.

"My pleasure Fenris." Hawke let his hand drop back to his side. "For what it counts, I'm pretty sure if there are any left they're too few to be a threat to anyone." Hawke took a few steps towards the door and waited for him to follow.

Fenris nodded silently, not really agreeing, but... letting the matter drop. His palm itched to reach out and snag the hand that had been offered to him, but he knew it was already too late, as he followed with long strides behind, and then beside him.

Thoughts jumped from topic to topic, always circling in a wary dance around the man. Hawke always seemed a half-step away from offering another chance, or waiting for Fenris to extend a hand first. Would it be worth taking the risk? Knowing for sure whether he’d damaged their brief relationship beyond any repair?

He felt the tension in his back grow anew with every step they took back into his home, through the wreckage to the only real lived-in part of the decrepit mansion.

Normally not one for shame, the state he'd been leaving his abode in - the state he was letting himself fall into - was almost as bad as the vagrants that lived on the streets. Splinters of broken funiture lay where he’d tossed them,  once-elegant drapery laying in puddles of fabric, probably starting to mold. The reek of dried blood in his clothes drew his attention, and instead of trying to sit and awkwardly try to divert attention away from it, to try to shoo the man back to his own home, Fenris... hesitated. 

It was a foolish, hopeless thought. He shouldn't want this. It wouldn't be good for either of them. 

Fenris exhaled, stripping off his gauntlets and letting them fall onto a half-broken table, one of its legs wobbling warningly.. His pauldrens were next, and he realized belatedly that his undershirt was likely crusted to his skin. He wished he could say he was disgusted, but honestly it wasn’t a new feeling.

"I'm going to pull up a bath," he stated, trying to seem casual. "Would you like-" he cut himself off, the furrow between his brows growing deeper. He began walking away again, intent on at least pretending he cared about the issue more than the constant awareness of the man watching him. "You're free to follow, if you wish." (To pretend he would have done this anyway, if no one was around to check on him.)

Hawke’s surprise was palpable, even without looking at him.

“I- Certainly!”

Fenris heard the clank of heavy armor being unfastened, his own steps quickening when he realized that this was actually happening. Hawke had accepted.

He had no idea what to do. Why did he even offer-?

Fenris started to run the bath, stripping off his shirt in the time it took for the man to follow him to the tiled chamber. His heart was pounding at Hawke's enthusiastic response. Doubt instantly coiled up his spine, wondering if he was making the right choice, if- if Hawke was genuinely accepting, and still held affection for him, or if he was just taking the offer from a physical need- a million things, but he was too tired to think them all through. Fenris didn't wait for Hawke or the bath to finish filling,  stepping into the shifting waters as footsteps heralded Hawke’s entry behind him.

"Andraste's mercy, I smell like a dog…” Fenris felt an ear twitch just slightly, head angling in an unconscious draw to pay attention as Hawke chuckled quietly to himself. “Honestly, if you hadn't of offered, I probably would have skipped a bath tonight. Just... Been that sort of day, I suppose."

Fenris managed a grunt of agreement, not sure if he really believed the words. He’d seen the man’s bedchamber, and the lack of blood stains on the sheets spoke volumes about the difference in their cleanliness habits.

"Are you... certain you don't mind me here? I don't want to overstay my welcome."

He turned a little further, catching Hawke’s terse expression out of the corner of his eye. A tight swallow, and Fenris nodded, holding his hand out under the tap to feel the water pouring over his fingers. 

"I would not have offered otherwise."

He couldn't decide if he  _wanted_ the man to treat this like a one night fling, purely for physical needs, or if... he wanted to see that soft expression on his face again. 

He was a damned fool. 

 


	8. Tiny splashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sappy fluff. That is all. More angst coming soon

This... Dance between them was hard. Hawke felt like he was stepping on his own foot every other move. But he wasn't stupid. Mother didn't raise stupid children. Fenris was still dancing, in his own, shy way. And Hawke was too damn stubborn to let go until it was well and truly over.  
Fenris still kept the red strip of fabric tied about his wrist when venturing out, the color catching his eye constantly.

  
A... promise?  
A claim?

The water rippled as Fenris exhaled in a gust, a muttered "C'mon, then." and a small gesture prompting him to strip,  climbing in with the careful slink of a dog who isn't quite sure if he's breaking a rule or not.

He tried not to look worried, taking at least enough time to grab something to wash himself with. Shelves of fancy soaps had thrown him for a loop when he'd first gotten back from the Deep Roads, and had seen Fenris's place for the first time. Though half had been broken throughout the house, there was still a fair amount of the elegant glass containers stacked neatly on dusty shelves, in neat lines and dusty spots that spoke of a one-time attempt at organization. Hawke had grown up with scentless bars that served no other purpose than to remove grime. Liquid soap was a luxury he'd have never so much as dreamed of, scent aside. Hawke didn't know why he was focusing on them so much. They didn't matter. 

  
Hawked watched, breathless as Fenris leaned back into the water, the muscles along his neck tight as he ducked his hair back to wet it. Hawke gripped the sides of the tub, watching frozen as long fingers work the water up into the pale strands, his own heart still pounding against his ribs.

  
"I…don’t suppose I’m lucky enough that you’d want some help with that, am I?"

  
Fenris paused, fingers slowly dragging down from where they’d been scrubbing at his scalp. Hawke immediately cursed himself for being too forward, for being unable to clearly read the elf’s many subtle expressions. The next moment he felt like he was flying, delighted disbelief making him a little clumsy as he reached for some of the liquid soap after Fenris nodded.

  
He accommodated Fenris as the elf swiveled in the water, presenting his back and slicking some of the water out of his hair. Was this actually happening?  
The unshattered bottles were still full - still sealed, as far as he could tell, and Hawke decided not to think about what else that could mean as he dumped some into his hands (probably too much, if he was honest) and reached out before Fenris could take back the wordless offer.  
He pushed his fingers into the wet hair, trying to be careful, trying not to rush things, all the while some delighted voice in the back of his head was trying to burn this memory into his brain. It almost felt like he’d been drugged.

Touching Fenris like this again, it felt like a blessing. How was he this lucky? His heart was off somewhere in the clouds. It was hammering away like there was no tomorrow, but he could scarcely feel it, so absorbed he was with the texture of skin and the fine prickle of white hair against the back of his knuckles.  
He supposed he had to have some fortune in his life. Besides the ridiculous luck of surviving this long. 

He bit his lip, holding back a pleased sound when he felt Fenris slump a little under the gentle massaging motions, head bowing. His fingers trailed a little lower, cautious, rubbing circles into the tight muscles of his neck and shoulders, sweeping up to at least pretend to still be washing his hair and dutifully avoiding the sensitive lyrium lines.

 

His thumb brushed the side of a warm neck, careful to keep his magic leashed tightly back, until his skin didn’t even tingle when lyrium lines brushed. The white lines were powerful. Dangerous. With the setting sun casting angled light, they almost seemed to glitter from within - half translucent in the way mana potions were.

  
Raw lyrium was poisonous to mages. Was the stuff just under Fenris' skin refined or not? He'd wondered that since the first time he'd ever touched the other, and felt the instant, bright song humming back.  
How much 'fire' was he playing with here?

  
If he were being honest with himself, Hawke would admit that he didn't care how risky it was at this point. He just desperately wanted to see happiness in green eyes, and he was willing to give more and more of himself to that end in every passing day.

  
The smell of lavender and some other herb wafted across the bathroom, ripples sending splinters of warm sunlight across dusky skin. In the low lighting, the white lines of lyrium glowed just faintly, the soft shimmers lingering where his hands passed over them. Hawke resisted the urge to lean forward and kiss every inch he could see, keeping his magic pulled well back away from the quiet song humming inside curving lines.

Still, despite the ironclad restraint, his magic still burbled happily in another sense, pinging a quiet (there he is) in the back of his head.

  
Little bubbles of soap slid down the elf’s back, curving around the blades of his shoulders where they pushed up too-sharp through his skin. The foam spread across the water, clinging to both of them.

  
He froze when Fenris’s hand came up out of the water, wet fingers capturing his wrist and drawing it over the strong shoulder.  
He was suddenly very thankful that the first thing his father had drilled into him was self control, because Hawke was fairly certain something besides his face would be on fire as Fenris brushed his lips on the inside of his wrist.

  
He swallowed hard, "I... Take it I should keep going then?"

  
A small nod, and Hawke’s hand was released. He took the opportunity to smooth his hands down Fenris’s shoulders and arms, jumping to slide his palms over the jutting shoulder blades. Wiry muscle slowly relaxed under his touch, and Hawke briefly considered that he was dreaming.

  
"The idea of sleeping is sounding better."  
Hawke paused at the rumbling voice, fingertips just barely touching the knobby (perfect) back of his neck.

  
For a moment, Hawke felt a little twinge of worry. Fenris was still desperately skinny. For all his muscle, it was apparent now more than ever. However, the mention of sleep - and perhaps the end of this lovely evening, 

  
“Yeah?”  
“I'm also considering returning the favor, if you'd like.” Fenris had turned just slightly - not enough to see an expression, but plenty to read that the elf was focused completely on him.

  
Hawke swallowed.  
“I… would like that.”

  
Fenris nodded again, leaning forward to dunk his soaped-up head into the water, using the suds sluicing down him to scrub the rest of his own body.  
Hawke busied himself doing the same, always keeping an eye out for the moment Fenris wanted to change the current situation.

 

The elf paused, tilting his head to watch Hawke out of the corner of his eye as his hand slid suds down the hard line of his shin.

“Turn around.” Fenris’s voice was louder than he expected - or perhaps he’d just gotten used to the quiet drips and the sound of breathing.

Hawke tried his best not to slosh the water around, mind racing as he wondered if he had missed a cue earlier. But his worrying was for naught as he gave access to his shoulders and back, only to feel wet fingers slide over the back of his neck and into dry hair.  

"Lean back," Fenris instructed quietly, pulling him back until the elf could cradle his neck just barely above the water, running his fingers through the coarse hair to rinse it. The liquid soap was next, and Fenris was generous with the application, rubbing his fingertips over his scalp until it created a thick lather. He slicked the soap down from his head, around his neck and down the line of his spine, as Hawke pulled himself upright again with tightly closed eyes. This was, trust, right?

Fenris scraped his fingernails gently over Hawke's scalp, absently tracing the shell of his ears before going back to lathing his palms across scar-scattered skin.  Down further, under Hawke's rib cage, fingers found a light stripe that didn't quite mesh with the rest of his skin. All that was left after being completely impaled while dueling the Arishok, scar tissue knotting up and then smoothing over time. The memory came with it's share of pain, though Hawke honestly remembered the aftermath more, if anyone asked. Holding his gut while leaning on Anders and Fenris. The mage berating him, even as healing magic flared while they walked. The fight he'd tried to start. _("I can't believe you'd suggest something so dangerous, Fenris! We should have fought that thing with him!")_ The knife in his gut that had been barking at the two to just shut up, just this once. Still, scars had found his skin agai and again, always begging the question - Was there a point a mage could reach, when their body was more magic than flesh? He didn't know, or- wasn't sure he wanted to know.

But still, the soap and careful hands still covered his extremities, flitting over his hands in swift movements that told him a grab for a hand-hold would not be welcome. He stayed still, relaxed, non threatening as much as his body could manage.

Hawke was nearly ready to doze off as the two of them fell silent, soaking in the presence of the other man amid soft splashes that echoed cavelike against the tiled walls. It seemed like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of white-lined fingers, watching their efficient, quick movements when they brushed through the corners of his vision like the sight alone could sustain him. After a small moment of hesitation, ever second-guessing whether or not his presence was truly wanted, Hawke caught his wrist and pressed a feather-light kiss to it. A small echo of what Fenris had offered earlier.

Hawke heard, more than felt as Fenris knelt up a bit higher, draping his arms over Hawke's shoulders and smushing his cheek against the soapy side of his head. "You should rinse off." Fenris’s voice rumbled against his temple, warm skin and clean smells making his head swim. He trusted Fenris' hands, following wherever he was pushed, heart aching as he tried to capture every moment in memory, sure that it would all vanish into a demon’s dream if he dared question it.

Hawke dared to nuzzle against the head pressed against his, face peaceful and softly smiling as steady hands guided him back to rinse the suds off. Careful fingers washed the streak of red paint from the bridge of his nose, even as his lips quirked and an apology for the red mess was breathed into the space between them as the elf guided him to lean back into the tub

“That’s what soap is for, Hawke. This isn’t a mess.”

Garrett relaxed minutely at the amusement he could hear in Fenris’s voice, and dared to open his eyes. He found dark green eyes watching him in return, fingers combing carefully through his hair. Fenris cupped his neck, keeping him just at the surface of the water. He felt fingers glide across the side of his throat, his own heart pounding as they traced over his collarbone.

“I’ll have to make it up to you.” He found himself blurting out.

“For what? The nonexistent mess?” True amusement then, and Garrett inhaled a tiny breath as Fenris leaned down, half-lidded eyes still watching him as their noses brushed - the angle too awkward for a true kiss, but _intimate_ nonetheless. He leaned up as a mouth brushed the corner of his lips, fingers aching as they clung to the tub’s side. Hawke wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes again, but he was aware of how close Fenris stayed, hovering over him as the kiss broke in a slow movement.

“Anything you want. Whatever you need, just ask.”

He knew the words probably sounded like begging. If he was honest with himself, it _was_ begging. Something in his chest _hurt_ at the idea of this becoming a repeat of the past - of having to watch Fenris leave (or worse, finding him gone without a word, pretending nothing had happened between them)

He was so tempted to just... Keep kissing him. Over and over. But he was probably pressing his luck already, and the silence was being drawn out longer than he felt was comfortable. "Fenris?" The question slipped out quietly enough that the mage found himself wondering if he'd actually spoken.

Hawke wasn't sure if he was glad, or upset that he couldn't see Fenris' face as he decided to forge onward. "...I... I hope you know I care for you. I've said so but... I worry I'm still not clear enough sometimes." The hand holding his neck up did not move, and the warm breaths he could feel against his cheek did not retreat.

He heard a soft hum, senses angling for desperate approval or disapproval - any communication, really. He felt like a teen again, throwing his heart to the wolves in hopes it would be returned in one piece. In the hope he could take that as a sign of something more. He sat up again properly, trying to act like he hadn’t just bared his heart and received so very little in return.

"You said you wanted to talk to me, earlier?"

"...Always." Hawke tried very hard to accept the diversion with grace. “I meant to ask what had you so... Disheveled? I thought it might help for you to have someone to spill your thoughts out on. And, well, then this happened"

"The idea of slavers sneaking around Kirkwall does not lend favors to my sleep." Fenris murmured. Then, after a few long moments of silence, a small voice murmured toward his back.

"I missed you."

It wasn't what Hawke thought he'd hear, and took a long moment to process it to make sure he was hearing correctly.

“Missed you, too.” He assured, too late to turn as he heard Fenris stand up, shedding water in loud splashes as he stepped out of the tub and flung a towel over his head to rake it dry. Garrett was quick to stand, slipping slightly and steadying himself against the tub’s edge as he pulled the drain to let water suck away to the sewers, wishing he read minds or something more useful than just throwing people around with his magic.

"Not having me around couldn't have been the only thing. And this business with the slavers is new from just today. ...Or yesterday I suppose. What aren't you telling me? Did Anders say something I haven't heard about? Not that you'd listen to him but... He's been getting snippy with you an awful lot lately..."

"The mage has always been snippy." Fenris answered without answering, looping his towel around his waist and heading for the door. Hawke tried to stifle his irritation, chastising himself for misreading the mood, or- something. He must have done something wrong, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out _what!_


	9. Up and at 'em

 

The restless urgency had subsided, since they had begun relaxing in the tub. Sharing moments together. The words (I missed you) had sat unwelcome on the back of his tongue, heart catching at the idea of saying that so blatantly - practically begging for attention like a common dog. Then again, Garrett had always said such sweet things when they were alone. Would he truly wish for a honest assessment of his life with that request? It was easy enough to look around - the ripped tapestries, damaged furniture, broken banisters and shattered glassware scattered about this place neatly displayed both his fits of temper and lack of cleanliness, to leave it laying about for so long. But- it was the truth, and there was no real point in hiding it beyond the ache of injured pride.

_"I missed you."_

Maybe he had been foolish to admit it. Or maybe those weren't the right words to describe the tugging need for acknowledgment, or... company. Maybe just a warm body instead of the empty rotting shell of a house he lived in. (What an apt reflection of himself) - The echoed sentiment didn't sound like what he needed to hear anyway, so he busied himself with drying himself and fleeing the room, struggling to gather the words that he needed to say. He couldn’t use the bath as a delay any longer, each moment staring at the human’s face, breathing in his scent - being so absolutely _trusted_ in those moments, wreaking havoc on the stoic distance he’d tried to take.

As soft and clean as his skin and hair was, there was still the dark smudges under his eyes from lack of sleep, and a sharpness to his hips that belied a diet made more of wine than actual food. The cold stone under his feet woke him up, textures a bit unfamiliar with the soft, clean soles instead of his normal hard callouses.

He could hear Hawke’s voice bite after him as he left the bathroom  "Fenris, so help me... Don't make me drag it out of you. Neither of us wants that... I can't well just leave you to this mood you're in!"

He heard the human clamber out, wet feet slapping against the floor "I won't tell anyone. Maker only knows how everyone figured out there was anything between us at all because you don't seem the type to chat casually about such things yourself."

Fenris felt his wet hair trying to bristle at the at the sharp words, automatically wanting to clam up and snarl instead of raking himself open for someone he’d already hurt and left behind. When he turned, he got an eyeful of nudity, and tossed the extra towel he’d slung around his neck at him, feeling some small amount of satisfaction when it hit him square in the face.

"Feel free to try." He bit out, turning on his heel with more energy than he really felt he had, dripping his way back toward his bed and wine. He shouldn’t have tried.

With every step he took, the broken mansion only reminded him of the dark mood he was sinking into again, until it was difficult not to resort to mindless violence on another piece of furniture. He didn't WANT to feel this way, but he HATED this place. Loathed the familiar halls and broken stones with the same amount of dark satisfaction he got from defiling it. This was the room Danarius had him rip out the hearts of two magisters, for trying to usurp his monopoly on Kirkwall's human trade. There, a hall where he had stood guard while that man had another slave beaten for disobedience. He wanted nothing more than to spit on everything that man created.

Yet... in the same moment, he didn't deserve anything more than this. He hated the idea of cleaning up this accursed manor, and likewise hated the idea of acting servile in this place. The only brightness it ever had was when he was too drunk to pay attention, or when Hawke stepped in to light up the night with fire and mana, welcoming a battle.

He hated the feeling that he was leading a good man on, who thought he was better than he was. 

He didn't want Hawke to leave him. He wanted to be left to rot. He wanted someone to pull him to safety. He deserved to drown. It was all muddled up in his head until he couldn't hear himself think.

"Now wait just a damn second! ...Maker's breath Fenris, at least dry off before you dramatically storm away! I-"

“-It’s nothing you did!”

Fenris paused as he felt the human rush up behind him, hand catching his wrist. The warm palm wrapped around the space normally bound with red, like a scrap of cloth was the most valuable thing Fenris owned.

"Fenris, don't..." A pause, and he turned slightly to show he was listening. "Please dry off, first. I couldn't stand it if you got yourself sick." Fenris clenched his jaw, fingers twitching as fingers gently squeezed soft skin normally protected by armor and red cloth. Something in his heart panged at the symbolism.

"You can light a fire in the hearth, if you want me dry."  There was probably a broken chair laying around that could use a good burning. If not, Fenris planned on crawling into bed anyway, so it's not like he'd be cold for long.

Hawke made a sharp gesture toward the fireplace, mana more than enough to get a fire going-. Even with the hearth mostly full of ash and old coals.

He swallowed, thinking over the moments before. This was getting ridiculous. He was too old to be throwing tantrums when his mind wasn't read.

"It's nothing you did." He repeated, more gently. He could hear Garrett sigh.

"Well... That's good, at least....Fenris, I... I can't make you do anything. All I can do is ask: please, tell me what's wrong?"

Fenris kept his eyes averted from what he knew would be an earnest face. He exhaled slowly, shifting and tapping the ball of his foot against the stone, hoping the pattern would clear up his thoughts.

Still muddled.

"I don't know," he muttered, honest at last, as unhelpful as it was. "It's a mess, I'm.... a mess." He swallowed, still glaring at the far wall instead of meeting Hawke's eyes. His tone ended up coming out low and guilty, as though he were trying to be unseen with his very voice.  "I..." he exhaled a sharp burst, raking strands of wet hair out of his eyes, if only for a reason to stall.

“I... hate this place. Being here. Seeing myself in it.” 

He saw from the corner of his eye as Hawke gestured helplessly around them, "This mansion isn't you. And... I mean if you wanted to, you could leave. Burn it down. I'd help you. Varric would too. And I'm sure Aveline would be overjoyed to hear of it as well, for your sake as much as her own." Hawke pressed closer to his side, and he couldn’t help but see the brown eyes seeking out his own. "They're your friends, Fenris. I'm your..." The man hesitated, swallowing.. "I'm yours."

Fenris accepted the slide closer, listening quietly. How Garrett guessed right at the heart of things, he never knew. He couldn't say whether or not he fully believed the words, but their ragtag group probably would be game for arson.

"How-"

"Fenris, I hate to disappoint, but you're not nearly that mysterious. You said enough. I could figure from there." He stepped into the elf’s space. "You could probably manage to afford a place in Lowtown. If Gamlen can, then I'm fairly sure anyone can. ...There is Darktown, too, but frankly I'm not sure I'd be comfortable with letting that slide. Not that you'd be in any real danger but... Well, you never know. There's the Hanged Man. Though maintaining a room there after a while would get rather pricey..." Hawke swallowed, "And... I suppose there's always staying with me but... That- that would be...silly, I guess, wouldn't it?"

Fenris could easily read the quiet longing in his offer, feeling oddly put-out by the  accusation of not being mysterious.  But.... Hawke was actually going through options. He did bring in enough from the bounties to afford a decent place in Lowtown. He really hadn't been doing much with the coin except stashing it for emergencies and drinking with Isabela and Varric, on occasion.

The idea of staying with Hawke... was attractive. Very attractive. Would be a lot more attractive if he wasn't neck deep in wondering if this level of obsessive interest in keeping the man's attention on him was reasonable or not.

"It my be alright giving it a shot, silly or not." Aaand, there was his mouth, not that he didn't mean it, but he didn't want to _say_ it. "Though I'd like to search for a place in Lowtown, I don't want to-" (be a burden, be coddled, be shackled down) was left unsaid.

\--

And there went Hawke's jaw again. Unreliable bugger. Really needed to get it fixed before it just fell right off. He honestly didn't hear the rest of Fenris' babbling. Cutting him off with a kiss that was just far too excited for his own good.

"Really!? You- you'd want to?!" Then his mind came running up. Stop. Yield. Hold the damned horses Garrett, before they kick someone. The girls. Fenris had left before he'd decided about them. Would he still be comfortable with it, considering that? Not to mention, Hawke didn't have a spare bed right now. They'd all fit on his, sure but- Fenris. Would Fenris be alright with that?

"Didn't I just say-?"

"Y-you did... Sorry, I... Maker. What a week." Hawke kept the hand on Fenris' wrist there, but the other he pulled through his own hair. "I'm not sure where to begin. If I had half a mind to be a selfish prick I'd probably be pulling you along now but- it wouldn't just be you and I, you see. And... I'm not talking about Orana or Bodahn and Sandal..."

Fenris stared blankly at him for a long moment as the events of the nights prior seemed to filter back in through his memory. Aaand, there was the realization. "The... two children. The twins. Hm. I don't have to move anywhere now if they need to stay a while,"

Hawke winced, ...This was going to be painful.

"Well... Uh... Define 'a while'?" He was looking anywhere but at Fenris. The fireplace was suddenly a very useful distraction. Reminded him of the mess he had at home.

"You...." Fenris narrowed his eyes, frowning at him. "You're trying to keep them? Or- claim them? Have you lost- no, never mind." He huffed, "Lowtown it is."

"I'm perfectly sane!" Hawke protested quickly, "What else could I have done? Look over all of Kirkwall and tell me you can think of anyone who could be trusted with those two!" He frowned, sighing. Just his luck. "I'll... I'll help you look around Lowtown tomorrow evening... If you don't mind my coming along..."

"That's fine," Fenris agreed, though his expression told Hawke he was probably holding his tongue on several subjects.

"Alright... I'm glad." Hawke yawned at the thought. "As much as I'd love to stay... You're not the only one who needs sleep and tomorrow is shaping up to be rather busy." He buried a hand in Fenris' hair once again. Still soft, even when wet…

His throat rumbled again with a pleased hum at the gentle fingers through his hair. "You could sleep here," he disagreed, thinking only of a warm body to press against him, too tired to start something more tonight. This was what, his second day in a row without sleep? The anxiety had just about drained away, leaving an exhausted shell of an elf behind. He had a plan. He had backup. Things weren't hopeless, and he'd be able to leave this wretched place.

Hawke sighed wearily. He really shouldn't... He'd never be up in time to go explain to Orana and Bodahn and the girls what was going on. ...Then again, Bodahn took Hawke's decisions in stride by now, Orana would follow his lead, and the girls... Surely they wouldn't just go running off after all that had happened to them. Orana said she would watch them. He knew he was trying to justify the decision he’d already made in the back of his head.

"I shouldn't... But it's hard to refuse you. Especially when I want it just as much. ...I won't be able to stay long, after we wake, you know." He moved his thumb against the white strands, wishing he could take the other away with him. It'd make everything easier....

"That's fine. This is just... just sleep." Fenris patted his side, leaning into his hand for a moment before stepping away and tugging him toward the bed.

"You can turn off the fire if you want."

Hawke smirked, the amusement reaching his eyes. "Turn off the fire huh? Well, I can certainly give it a shot, in any case." It took little effort to put out the fire. More to keep the spell from growing stronger and chilling the room. Restraint was always the trickier route it seemed. Especially around Fenris. But he wouldn't dare say such a thing.

Fenris released his hand to pull extra blankets out of a side cupboard, kicking the wrinkled ones mercilessly from the mattress.

"You were the one who started it." He accused softly, "There wasn't even any kindling."


	10. Good morning

 The moment Fenris looked even faintly like he was about to lie down, Hawke found himself drawn almost awkwardly to join him, absently reminding himself that he’d left his clothes in the bathroom. He wrapped himself around the smaller body, senses honed for any shift of rejection or disapproval. Finding none, Hawke tucked his face into the back of Fenris’s head, squeezing a little tighter and wishing he could say this whole experience was truly a revival of their short-lived relationship, and not just… seeking comfort in familiarity.

"Sleep well..."

Fenris murmured,  slipping one of his ankles between Hawke's.

"Sleep well." He echoed, staying perfectly still as Fenris’s breaths slowly evened out, the visible part of his face relaxing after several long minutes. He was out fast enough that Hawke wondered if anger and stubbornness had been the only thing keeping him going, and now the strings had been cut. Hawke may have taken more than a moment or two to admire the view, quietly carving the moment into his memory - trying to remember the scent, the texture of hair against his cheek, the warm pulse fluttering against the side of his arm…. Grudgingly at last, he allowed sleep to claim him before the sun rose outside.

Waking up was slow, easy. This wasn't his bed. But that was fine. Hawke blindly pushed his face into the soft hair in front of him, arms gently scooping around the slimmer body and pulling it closer. He sighed, a wistful contentment curling through his chest.

  
White lines hummed softly under Fenris’ skin, but he kept his own magic pulled firmly away from the siren call, tucked tightly away in his chest in an old, old habit.  
Fenris made a sleepy noise, reaching up to clumsily lace his own fingers into Hawke’s warm, sleep mussed hair. His hand slid down, thumb tracing the curve of Hawke's ear, before cupping the side of his neck.

  
Hawke hummed softly, heart wrenching in a longing sort of happiness. “I've been dreaming about the day I would wake up with you again." He leaned into the touch with his admission, keeping his eyes closed yet. Fenris’ hand hardly moved, thumb still brushing short lines over his skin. This was… absolutely perfect. He couldn't think of a better way to wake up. The elf’s low rumble of a hum vibrated gently into his his chest, and Hawke couldn't stop himself from continuing to talk into the white hair, just to relish Fenris’s undivided attention. His presence. The warmth and feeling of his body in his arms.

  
“It's a little strange to wake up to find you truly here. A good sort of surprise. The demons never can get your details right.”

  
Shit, that was a stupid thing to say. Even now he could feel Fenris stiffening in his arms.

  
“I just meant-” he hurriedly tried to correct himself, but Hawke cut himself off when Fenris spoke.  
“What did they get wrong?”  
The soft voice didn't seem judgemental, just… cold. The sinking pit in his heart really hoped he was imagining the tone.

  
“Your voice, for one.” He tried to keep his voice level, playful like it had been. “Your markings. Little details in your demeanor….” Hawke risked placing a tiny kiss on the back of Fenris’ neck, lips sticking just slightly to the skin.  
“Your eyes…. Maker, I've never seen anything so lovely as your eyes. I can spot a fake in an instant."

  
Fenris shifted, twisted, and Hawke was quick to open his eyes and release his arms to let the elf move. Those lovely green eyes turned to face him, intelligence sparking in them even as his face remained impassive.

  
“Don't worry.” Hawke took a stab in the dark about the faint crease of worry between Fenris’ brows. “I'm the last person you need to worry about becoming an abomination. Even Knight-Commander Meredith has worse chances."

  
"Knight-Commander Meredith seems the type to sell her soul for power." Fenris pointed out dryly, "Though she'd call it patriotism." Hawke failed to stifle the snicker at the imagery, and couldn't help the thrill of delight when his companion leaned over to pull him in for a languid morning kiss.

  
"True enough.” He murmured as soon as Fenris leaned back. “Thank the Maker she isn't secretly a blood mage" He might have said more, but Fenris was kissing him again, and that was more important. He pulled the other close, letting his thoughts melt away into the quiet bliss of having this again.

  
They continued for a few, glorious minutes, a sharp fang catching just slightly on his chapped lip when Fenris ever-so-gently nipped it.  
His palm slid back to cup the curve of Hawke's skull, both of them relaxing in the gentle touches. Hawke was nearly relaxed enough to go back to sleep by the time Fenris leaned back again, looking down at him with a thoughtful expression.

  
Hawke met his gaze well enough, though memories trickling back from the previous few days started a slow souring of the pleasant mood. The girls. He still had to get back to them to make sure they were ok. Hawke exhaled a slow sigh, and Fenris’s hand stilled on his neck.

  
“As much as I'd love to lie here with you forever... I should probably put my pants on and pretend to be an adult for a few hours..." Sitting up at the edge of the bed, he stretched and popped his back, the cold morning air already feeling desolate compared to the warm moments they had just shared.

  
Fenris didn't comment, slithering to the edge of the bed and leaning his head against Hawke's hip, half tangled in sheets and clearly not ready to get up just yet.

  
"Do you need any help today?" Fenris spoke into the side of his thigh, and Hawke relished running a hand through the pale hair.  
"Kind of you to ask, but I'm fairly certain there's nothing I'll be doing today that you can help with. Or will want to, for that matter. But... I'll be around before too long. Maybe tomorrow you'll indulge me with a reading lesson, if you can still stand me?"  
“Acceptable.”  
Fenris murmured his approval, hand reaching out to cup Hawke's opposite hip, clinging for a moment as they both tried to ekk out the last luxurious moments of casual intimacy.

  
Was it truly this easy? Just… hop into bed and everything was forgiven? Forgotten? When Fenris had left so suddenly last time- didn't even say goodbye, and pretended not to notice Hawke’s fororn pining…  
Some part of him begged him not to roll over into the elf’s arms so easily. That he shouldn't allow himself to be picked up and discarded so easily. But…  
there was always a “but”

  
And this time it was the feeling of soft hair and softer skin, calloused fingers sliding over his bare hip and a hot breath on the side of his thigh. The acute, fierce longing that this moment could last forever.

Hawke didn't even have to try hard, to smile warmly at the other before begrudgingly removing himself from the bed and redressing in clothes that smelt like he had before that lovely bath. He tried and failed not to notice green eyes tracking his every movement, Fenris sprawled bonelessly in tangled blankets.

He left with hope and a slow, lingering pause at the door to get one last look.

However...

The next day, Fenris never did show up to a writing lesson, or to the trip around Lowtown to find a new place to live. Hawke spent the evening by the fire in his study, trying to push away the sinking doubt that it had truly meant anything to the elf. Trying to focus on the too-quiet, too-skittish children now in his home. Watching them draw rough illustrations almost took his mind off of it.

And In the days following, though Fenris’s appearance and demeanor had improved, there was no mention of that night, of the promises they had made.

_I'm yours._

Right. Of course.

And after a week, he overheard Varric congratulating Fenris over getting a better place. Welcoming him to the neighborhood.

_I missed you._

_I'm yours._

He ached.


	11. There is Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Smut ahead!)

\--Several Weeks Later-- 

 

The night slipped up over the horizon, stars gleaming above the cliffside city of Kirkwall. The ocean was calm as it ever was, slapping insistently at docksides and boatsides like an aggressively needy, yet still very tired child. 

Fenris wasn’t quite sure why he’d been contemplating the ocean, but he could reasonably blame the wine he was deep into, and the loud company he kept. 

A roar of laughter rose up around him, split between their group at the Hanged Man’s table, and other evesdroppers across the room as a drunken Hawke made some innuendo-laden comment, only to be shot down by an amused Varric. Fenris had exhausted most of the desire to socialize earlier in the night, but things seemed to be winding down, so there was no point in leaving early until someone else made the first move to. 

Speaking of - 

"Well Hawke, it's official. You're drunk enough to make me feel sorry for you. Anders, could you walk him home?"  Avaline hauled the man up from his chair by his upper arm without much effort, and Fenris absently wondered if she’d ever competed in the feats of strength bets that always seemed to crop up on slow evenings in Lowtown. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her there, though admittedly he didn’t attend many on his own. 

The Abomination seemed surprised at the direction, but didn’t question it. Hawke laughed as he staggered toward the door, his fellow mage exasperated and far more sober as he tried to herd what may as well be a drunk Mabari. The inn seemed so much quieter after he left, the man’s energy no longer keeping it charged with loud positivity. 

Aveline slumped back down in her chair, slapping her hand on the table. 

"Alright. We need to plan for Hawke's thirtieth before it's too late."

Fenris leaned his chin in his hand, bringing the thick glass of wine to his lips once more, listening. 

Varric chimed in, "We could always rent a room at the Blooming Rose." Fenris shot him an acidic glare, only catching himself after the dwarf gave him a sly smile. "Or  _ you _ could dress up and we could pretend your place was the Blooming Rose. I'm sure I have some lace laying around somewhere." 

“You flatter me.” The sarcasm was thick enough to spread on toast. 

"Or we could pretend to have class for once in our lives." Aveline sighed, rubbing a cheek with one hand. "Surely you must have some ideas besides sex, Varric?"

"We could hog-tie him and send him off in an unmanned vessel in the middle of a storm. The man does seem to be fond of running off into pointless dan-" 

They paused as a commotion started at the door, before it burst open to reveal Hawke standing with a wide grin. 

“Guys! Tomorrow’s my birthday!”

Avaline’s frustrated sag was all that needed to be said. Varric just chortled. 

The mage rushed toward them, banging his own palms down on the table in an unknowing echo of an earlier gesture. 

“I know what we should do!” He declared, then paused to hold onto the edge of the table as his expression told Fenris that the world had started tilting a bit. 

Anders rushed in behind him a moment later, frazzled. "I- I'm sorry! I just turned around and he wasn't there anymore!" His complaint went largely ignored, aside from a sympathetic smile from Merrill. 

“So, king of his own birthday plans, what’s the scoop?" Varric laughed when Hawke’s face brightened again, and he took a deep breath. 

"So I heard these guys right? And they're talking about some crazy, mind reading fortune-changing fortune teller. And how these ladies..." He leaned slightly forward, blinking rapidly, "they take the husbands who they think are bastards right? The- the evil ones, not just the, y’know, wedding...lack, And if they are, they never come back from Darktown." Hawke smiled broadly, pushing himself upright to see everyone’s reactions with eager delight. "Blood mage of the month, yeah?"

Aveline sighed, "You were saying something about running off into pointless danger, Varric?"

"S'not pointless!" Hawke immediately protested, "We're protecting the good citizens of Kirkwall!" In the background another, also very drunk patron chimed in, "Wot good citizens?!"

Fenris perked up at the idea of harassing Blood Mages, while Varric gave a snort.

"Yeah, what good citizens? Clearly, we're all drunkards and looters. Get your facts straight, my friend." 

"W-well there's Aveline!" Hawke said, swinging out a hand to gesture to her. "And Donnic! And that one lady who patrols the docks, and my girls. They're good girls....And there's the guy who sells the oranges in... Somewhere between Hightown and Lowtown. I talked to him once. He doesn't drink, you know. Respectable."

"You know Hawke, noble as your conviction is, most of the people you listed are guardsmen. We don't really need protecting." Aveline pointed out.

Hawke pouted defiantly, somehow managing not to look completely ridiculous.

"Well we're doing it anyway. Or, I am, And I don't -hic- don't need any help walking home, Anders, so ...I'll see all of you... Tomorrow. Varric and Merrill and... And Fenris especially." He started out, leaving Anders to look helplessly to Varric and Aveline.

Varric was still chortling into his tankard, stopping to cough into his fist when he sloshed some down his throat when inhaling. "I don't know, who better to protect us than the innocent angels of the guard? All those pfft- Bright young lads." He leaned back and snickered, watching Hawke strut away. Fenris just sighed, downing the last of his glass and getting up to follow him out after tossing a few coins on the table. Varric smacked the now-empty chair, inviting Anders to sit back down. "You still owe me two silver Sovereigns for that game last week. Buy me another drink and we can call it even."

 

"If you insist. Not like Justice will let me drink anyway." Aveline offered nothing more than a sigh as the mage grumbled all the way down into his seat, well used to it all.  

Fenris heard the clink of coins in the distance as he exited the noisy bar, and stepped into the cool night air. 

Hawke walked a few strides ahead with a lot of certainty for a drunk man, only stumbling twice all the way back up to Hightown, muttering insults to the sloped terrain each time. Fenris shadowed him quietly, warding off one hopeful pickpocket with a dark scowl and reach toward the sword still slung across his shoulders. The night was...nice, he supposed. A comfortable chill, and a bright moon overhead. Several bats swooped in and out between the houses, gleefully picking off the moths battering themselves against candle-lit windows. He didn't bother helping Hawke when he stumbled, making it into an excuse that he wasn't 'walking him home' rather, just walking in the same direction. His little house back in Lowtown wasn't going anywhere, maybe he wanted a stroll in the dark.

Hawke ended up pausing outside his estate to rest, leaning against a wall and fumbling with the door’s lock. Fenris stopped as well, waiting for him to depart safely inside. They'd been attacked on the doorstep before, even in Hightown. Kirkwall was fun like that. 

"Do you have any other information on the Blood Mages?" He finally broke the silence, carefully staring up at the sky when Hawke startled and cursed, dropping his keys with a clatter of metal on stone. 

"I can do some scouting before we confront them tomorrow,” Fenris added, “instead of running in blind like we always seem to do."

"Sneaky bugger, it's.... It's just the one, I think. But they do seem to run in packs don't they?" Hawke took a deep breath, bending to fetch the keyring, trying to sort through his thoughts. 

"...You can't go alone alright? Take... Merrill or Varric if you go. But I think Varric might be busy. That's a good idea. Someone scouty”

Fenris tilted his head, eyes sweeping down to evaluate the intoxicated man. "I don't plan on running in shouting about blood mages, you know. I am capable of discretion." His expression was flat, but the intonation was something like amusement. He stepped past Hawke, pounding on the front door with the side of his fist after Hawke failed again to insert the correct key into the lock, mumbling unkind things to the metal as he jiggled it free again. 

"Besides, you seem to have a strange curse about sniffing out danger and jumping in at the worst possible time. If you're too drunk to show up, then I won't be in danger." He glanced up through his bangs, stepping away from the door. "Varric's assertion, though I’ve yet to see it proven fully wrong." His ear twitched, and he heard footsteps approaching the front door, beckoned by his knock. Still, Hawke was just standing there, watching him. It'd been several weeks since he last spent the night with the man - before he had rented the new (ish) house, and Fenris wondered if- Well, Hawke's birthday was tomorrow, and a waxing moon on a clear night would probably light up his hair beyond any attempt of sneakiness. No point in poking around tonight. 

He found himself glancing at those slightly parted lips, and down to his hands, gears clicking away with thoughts on how to initiate this without seeming strange, or… taking advantage. Wondering if he even should, when Hawke was too drunk to open his own door. Not to mention, there were people in the house, and- Fenris felt his lips thin, remembering that those children were still pattering about, and THAT was why he hadn't intruded before.  Still....

"Hungover," Hawke corrected, "I'll be hungover tomorrow." He ran a hand through his hair and straightened himself up. "I worry though. People may not know you. But they do know you know me. ...Discrete or not, I never actually walk into a mess by myself. You… You shouldn't either." His words were mostly clear, but the slow blink and way he leaned against the doorframe still gave him away. 

“I'm sure I'll be fine” Fenris insisted, “Like I said, I don't plan on actually making a target of myself”

Orana answered the door, "Oh, hello Mast- Messere Fenris! The girls are still all tucked in if you'd like to come in today and wait for Messere Hawke?"   
Fenris felt himself tense at the slip (master-), but didn't call attention to it. He knew how hard it was, sometimes, to- No, he didn't need to think of it. She was working on it, and Garrett clearly didn't encourage the language, so...He managed a wane smile, thanking her for her invitation and practically pushing Hawke inside. He should probably go back to his own home, but...    
Well, he still wore the red cloth around his wrist. While the general restless anxiety had calmed significantly since that night, he was still... lonely.  Still trying to improve his habits and his person enough that he could feel like an equal partner, if they did … start a relationship. He was just trying not to depend on Hawke for everything, like a- He cut that thought off. 

Part of him was furious at himself for missing opportunity to move in with Garrett when he initially offered, but another part knew he'd just swing into feeling smothered to share a house with so many people. Resentful that he couldn’t offer the same kind of support to the household that Garrett could. Skittish and trapped. He knew he didn't feel like an equal, as much as he knew Hawke never intended that. Fenris released Hawke as soon as they were inside, thanking Orana again in the hopes that she'd get the hint and leave them alone.

Orana nodded, closing and locking the front door and heading away to her own chambers. They'd be left alone quickly, Bodahn and Sandal already apparently asleep. Fenris glanced at Hawke, only to find him staring with something bordering awe, dark eyes devouring him. He looked away. 

"I... never really thanked you, for helping me out of that house." Fenris started in a slow murmur, careful steps taking him to browse the books settled on a nearby shelf. He was able to read most of the titles, though if asked to replicate them by his own hand, he knew he'd have quite a bit of trouble still. Likewise, a few of them used rather elaborate typefaces, and reading through the excess loops and scratch marks seemed impossible. He pulled one off the shelf, feeling foolish the moment he opened it. 

It wasn't even in Common. No wonder. 

He pressed the book back up onto the shelf, still trying to find the right words to transition from that idea to the one he had in mind. Fenris made a sweeping gesture that didn't really mean anything, shifting and turning around on his bare feet to face Hawke again.    
"So... thank you."

Hawke nodded, hands limp by his sides, gaze fixated on him. "You didn't have to, Fenris. ...Seeing you... Doing so well. That's reward enough for me." 

Fenris twitched his fingers, trying not to squirm under the shameless adoration in his voice. It was just too much, even with leftover wine buzzing pleasantly in the back of his thoughts. Hawke’s voice caught his attention once more, soft and sad,

"This is the first time you've been over since then..."

Fenris exhaled through his nose, mouth still turned into a small frown as he caught himself starting to look down at the floor, and switched to side-eyeing the far fireplace. He raked metal claws through his hair, nodding to Hawke's statement. He had been avoiding this place. Well, mostly avoiding hanging out in a house with children and a man who seemed keen to pull things faster and sweeter than he could deal with.Who looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and who prompted his heart to offer senseless promises of love and devotion, only to rear back to defend the soft belly of his heart the moment he realized what that would entail. 

Yet something about Hawke always drew him back in again. Something behind his self-made armor craved those words with a deep hunger.

“There hasn’t been a reason to show up without an invitation.” He murmured, turning toward the door and deciding that he’d fulfilled his obligation, and Hawke was home safe. 

Garrett reached out, and both of them stopped before the hand even touched his shoulder. He made the mistake of looking at Hawke’s face, and the desperate, pained longing was both plainly evident and heart-wrenching. The man’s hand fell without touching him, but he took a small step forward, tilting his head slightly in askance. 

“I thought you knew, you’re always welcome in my home. There’s a standing invitation for… well, whenever you want.

"I... hm." Fenris stopped, swallowed,and Hawke edged forward just a bit more, hand reaching out in a small aborted motion that could have been an attempt to hold his hand.

“Fenris, do you want to stay? I’d welcome the company, tonight.” 

He remained silent, not wanting to look at him again and feel his resolve crumble so rapidly. But… what resolve? Just the tone of Hawke’s voice, the quiet, hardly-there hope blanketed with resignation.

Fenris took a breath, set his shoulders back and raised his head, forcing a neutral expression. "Since you're so against me gathering information…."

Hawke seemed to light up, body language he didn’t even realized had slumped suddenly filling with excited energy. Fenris let Hawke step into his space, hand unresisting when his wrist was gently grabbed, and Hawke slipped his hand into Fenris', fingers clumsy and calloused.

He was in his space, his smell in every breath, the soft creak of leather and metal armor so close to leaning against his body. It was a little overwhelming. 

“We don’t have to do anything, I’m not- I don’t want- We can just sleep.” The whisper was in his ear, soft puffs of breath over sensitive skin breaking goosebumps down his back. 

“Why?” 

Fenris hardly realized he had spoken until Hawke leaned back a little to meet his gaze. 

“Why what?”

“Why are you so enamored with me?” 

Hawke blinked, glancing away and scratching at his beard with his free hand. 

“What’d you mean?” 

“Why are you so patient? I keep pushing you away, keep making you wait, but you never seem to give up. Just…-”

"You know…” Fenris’s mouth snapped shut when he interrupted. “You're incredible Fenris. I've never met anyone else like you." Hawke closed his eyes, squeezing his hand a little. “Not sure I ever will. I just… I want you in my life. Even if I have to wait like this.” 

The elf exhaled a dissatisfied noise, but didn’t struggle when Hawke gently pulled him, shuffling steps leading them toward the stairs, and likely the master bedroom. Fenris let himself be led, squeezing the hand a little and following behind. 

The gears in his brain whirred uselessly, asking a thousand different variations of ‘is this what I want? Yes, of course, but this is isn't sustainable, I can't be what he needs. Too damaged, too…

The two of them made it up the stairs and into the bedroom, and Hawke managed to lock the door behind them, mumbling something about “It’s just a latch, Ellie likes to run in at the worst times” Hawke squeezed Fenris’s hand a bit tighter, brow furrowing in a wince. 

Fenris noticed the expression, felt the shift of his spiked gauntlets and huffed a small smile. Already, behind the safety of locked doors, he could feel his guard falling, worries pressed insistently away by the earnest expression, and Hawke's endless patience. His own alcohol was humming pleasantly in a warm glow at the back of his head, making everything just a bit softer, the arguments against this falling apart. He'd let himself be pulled this far, and the feeling of waking up next to Hawke so many nights ago had been wonderful. 

"I can take those off.” The offer came without thinking, “I doubt some bandit is going to come crashing through your window at this time of night."  He tugged his hand out of Hawke’s grip and began loosening the straps without waiting for an answer, heart picking up a bit. Any companionship with Hawke sans gauntlets was bound to be comfortable.

"The windows are also barred. It would be an impressive effort though!" Hawke chuckled, a broad smile making his teeth glint in the moonlight of the room as he leaned back against the wall. "But, ah, please do. I like your skin” 

Fenris licked his lips, stepping a little closer, muscle memory and touch letting him unfasten them without having to tear his eyes off Hawke again, drinking in every line on his face, every fond emotion glowing behind brown eyes. How was he even real?

"I don't know,” Fenris’ voice was low even in his own ears, soft and tempting “I thought I might cover myself up a bit more. Absence making the heart grow fonder, or some such thing. A few blankets, maybe a cloak.” Another small step, and a glance down to the Champion armor. Hawke was chuckling still, happiness contagious, and Fenris felt his muscles relax a bit further as he continued plucking at the straps of his own armor.

“I've gotten a bit attached to the feathery mess you keep draping yourself with."  Fenris twisted his wrists, letting the gauntlets clatter together as he pulled them off and tossed them to the corner table. "Who knows, perhaps with your ascension to 'champion' status, draping a few dead crows around your neck might be the newest fashion trend." Fenris stepped forward to tug on said fluffy collar of feathers, white stripes of dormant lyrium contrasting brightly with the glossy black fluff.

Fenris offered a small smile at the thought as he imagined it, nervous energy torn between trust and triple-guessing every action. Was he being too forward? No, Hawke was the one who leaned forward, drawing Fenris’ hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to Fenris' bare wrist. He watched the kiss with a little flutter in his chest, and Hawke murmured against it;

“Do you think if I cover myself with enough feathers they’ll think me a noble?” 

“Never.” 

It was only half a lie, though - Hawke definitely fit the 'regal' profile. Maybe a bit more 'barbarian warlord' than 'Champion of the people', but, Fenris preferred this aesthetic. He just… didn't fit the role. His temper wasn't right for the world of political backstabbing and triple-layered sentences slicker than an oil trap, and twice as thorny. Especially when being silly and dog-obsessed, or drunkenly sweet. There was just something kind about Hawke's face. About his mannerisms, and his soppy drive to protect everyone else. 

Fenris pulled his hand out from the loose grip to trail his fingers around Hawke's neck, helping to undo the armor straps at the man's shoulders, taking his sweet time brushing his knuckles against the bare flesh on the back of his neck.

Hawke chuckled, the sound rougher than it normally was. "Well, dirty Ferelden farm boys don't typically come equipped with much nobility. You’ve got me beat on that front." He watched Fenris more than he helped shed his armor, sighing softly and eyes fluttering shut to enjoy the gentle touches. 

Fenris managed to get Hawke's chestplate off, smoothing down the ruffled tunic underneath before speaking. 

"Then again, I already have feathers on my shoulders - any more and it might look like I'm trying to take flight." 

Hawke broke his entranced lean to grin, "What, like Anders? Maker, I agree. Bad idea." but when he cracked his eyes open again, they were even softer, more fond. So hopeful. 

Fenris slid his hands down, releasing the pauldrons and gauntlets with a few efficient buckles, slowing their descent to the floor before sliding his hands back up Hawke's arms and over his shoulders. The man made no move to grab him, and Fenris wondered if the man remembered his lyrium lines were sensitive to the touch - painful with any roughness. 

"Filthy or not, I think a farm boy can be plenty noble." 

The feel of his skin, his warm, solid presence - Even his smell was urging Fenris to make the first move despite the alcohol and smoky haze from the inn still clinging to them both. He glanced down to Hawke's lips, then back up to his eyes. "Now, are you going to help me get my armor off, or do I need to do everything myself?"

Fenris was only halfway through his request when Hawke jumped to help. His fingers were quick, a little clumsy, and Fenris couldn’t say he was entirely surprised when Hawke continued to lean toward him, until his face was buried in the crook of Fenris’ shoulder, lips pressing against the side of his neck while clever hands worked to undo his armor. Still, his heart jumped, and he didn’t stop the instinctual tilt of his head, baring his throat to offer more. 

Hawke groaned, abandoning the straps to wrap an arm loosely around the elf’s waist, lips sliding up his neck to kiss and kiss, breaths already heavy and desperate. 

Long fingers found their way into coarse black hair, and he held the man's head close while his free hand slid up his back to brush fingers across the bottom of Hawke's shoulder blades.

Fenris turned his head to brush his lips against the side of Hawke's head, tucking his elbows in so he could work at the broad belt and bag strapped tightly to the man's hips.

Hawke pulled away just enough to pull the last of the straps free and tug Fenris' chestplate aside before hurrying back to bathe the elf’s neck in more kisses, teeth brushing skin, tongue tasting in tiny touches, but never truly biting down. Never pressing on a white line. He breathed like he was racing against time. 

Fenris pulled Hawke’s belt free, the bag dropping to the floor along with it, and he heard Hawke mutter a soft "shit," against Fenris' skin, arms clutching him a bit tighter. Fenris stumbled slightly when Hawke dragged him back a step to lean them both against the wall, the man's face still buried in his shoulder. Was he expecting them to just make out against the wall? 

He opened his mouth to ask, but a tiny rasp of a whisper barely caught his ear. 

“ _ Are you going to leave again? _ ”

He froze. 

His hands rested still on Hawke's lower back, both of their muscles rigid. 

The man's grip around him tightened for a moment, and Fenris swore he could feel a small tremble in the hand on his hip. 

“ _ Am I… not good enough? Did I do something wrong?”  _

Fenris shook his head slightly

“No, of course not-” 

“ _ Please, I'll fix it, I'll-” _

“Hawke, stop.” The man fell silent, but Fenris could feel how tightly strung he was. He couldn't be what Hawke wanted, there was too much he needed to do, too many people he needed to kill, too many memories mangled and full of pain, and he didn't want to put that burden on someone else. He felt the words against his skin, barely breathed,

“ _ Please, stay. ” _

A kiss on his neck, another just under his ear, and the hand on his hip tightened minutely before the broad palm swept up under his shirt along his spine. Fenris dug his short nails into Hawke's back on instinct, and made a small, startled sound when a mouth was suddenly on his. He pulled back, and Hawke let him, scared brown eyes searching over his face.

“I can't promise that.” He whispered, and watched Hawke's expression fall further. 

“ _ Tonight, then? Just… just until the morning, so I can say goodbye. _ ” 

He nodded, and leaned into the gentle kiss Hawke placed on his lips. A moment later, it became harder, and his worries were swept up into kisses and heavy hands sliding over his sides. 

“ _ Tonight _ .” He barely heard the word, and Hawke twisted them around to pin him to the wall, a knee sliding between his thighs insistently. Teeth found his neck again, and his breath hitched a staccato rasp. He reached for Hawke's pants, finally freeing the brown belt from its buckle, tugging it loose enough that it would fall off Hawke's hips. He could feel the flush creeping down his neck from the hot breaths steaming over it. This, at least, was something he could handle. A rough fuck, something physical. Just one night, he could handle that. 

 

Fenris slid his hands into the man's hair, pulling him up to kiss his mouth tenderly for a moment, before tightening his grip to halt any movement and biting, pulling them apart to tease him with the soft slide of lips just barely touching. Hawke's arousal and heavy breaths were evident against him, but so was the lingering sadness in his expression. Fenris closed his eyes, and he heard Hawke groan when he bit his lip again, tugging it a moment before sweeping them both into a wet kiss while one hand slid down from his neck, to slide his palm against the man's arousal. 

 

“Maker, Fenris, I want you in me..." His hands ghosted over Fenris' sides before starting on the buttons of his tunic. He was fumbling, but not completely incompetent. Somehow.

Fenris felt his own breath stutter at the request, tightening his grip in the man's hair to pull it back, fastening his mouth on the long column of throat to suck a mark just above his Adam's apple and feel the clever hands falter on his shirt. 

"I'd be happy to grant your request", he rasped, teeth scraping over the side of his neck just before he pulled the man back down for a slower kiss, releasing the grip on his hair and combing his fingers through it to gently soothe (or maybe apologize for yanking him around). He felt his tunic come loose and broke the kiss to shrug it off his shoulders, half tempted to try phasing out of his pants. 

When Fenris pulled back, Hawke was quick to take the chance to claw out of his own shirt. Fenris got an eyeful of a muscular, albeit hairy chest, before the man dropped to his knees and made surprisingly quick work of the elf’s pants. 

Fenris choked a little on the back of his tongue, not expecting the quick jump from kissing to this. He felt the hot breaths on his lower stomach, and his smallclothes being pulled down, and couldn't bear to look down if it meant seeing sadness on Hawke's face like this. 

Sudden heat, suction, and the soft noises crawling pleasure up his spine finally prompted him to take a peek. 

A word died and shuddered out in a breathy exhale, and he spent a moment raking his fingers through Garrett's hair, tugging the man's head backwards gently, just to see himself slide between those soft lips. No sadness, there. Only determination and hunger, and quick glances up to ask for approval.

He brushed his fingers over the man's hollowed cheek, over his rounded ear, sucking in a breath when he did something with his tongue that shot hot electricity up his spine. 

"Ha- Hawke." The word was somewhere between a plea and a warning, shoulders hunched in as he tried not to buck into Hawke's mouth, only to be pinned back to the wall with a push of strong hands just under the lyrium lines around his hips.  The look on his face- on Hawke's face, was- 

Arousal twisted low in his gut, pulsing through his veins like some hungry beast.    
Fenris allowed himself a half-purr sort of moan as the vibration of Hawke’s happy hum pulsed through him, continuing to pet the man’s head, fingers dancing down the sides of his face to trace his ears, forehead, anywhere he could reach. His lyrium shivered whenever the mage leaned closer, little jolts of cold energy just tempting enough that he struggled to keep himself from rocking his hips into the hot mouth for more. Hawke smoothly adjusted to his tiny movements, until Fenris finally pushed through the pleasurable haze to realize he was approaching his climax far too soon, and he needed to- 

He growled, leaning down to pull Hawke from him, breathless at the sight of him practically chasing it for more, despite the fist in his hair. He crouched down to ensnare him in a fierce kiss, before slipping his hands around his ribs and lifting the man bodily up, taking the few steps needed to get him on his feet and the both of them to the bed. He'd lifted men up off their feet one-handed in battle (usually with a grip on an organ or two, but that was irrelevant), and an eager mage was a non issue, broader than him or not.

Hawke landed sitting with a startled laugh on the edge of the bed, and Fenris was quick to capture his lips in a biting kiss, sighing satisfaction at the soft sound squeaking from the man’s throat. He could taste himself on his lips, and the stumbling rush transitioned smoothly into pressing Hawke back to lay on the bed, grinding down on him with slow rolls that dragged delicious friction. 

He could feel the man's erection against his own, and shifted his grip to under Hawke's thigh, keeping him wrapped around him..

He reached up with his other hand, leaning up to pull the man into a sloppy kiss. It was too desperate again, and shit, they should have done this again sooner. Why didn't they again? All of this - Garrett's face, the overwhelming heat, the feeling the desperate affection kicking back and forth between them, he /needed/ this. It bubbled up in his chest and settled in deep satisfaction. 

"What do you want?" He breathed between their faces, pressing his hips to pin the other a bit more firmly against the mattress. 

“You. In me. Fenris please... I need you right now or I swear I'll..." He gave a shuddery gasp, as Fenris tugged his hair to turn his head aside, mouth biting and sucking at a point high on his neck. 

His voice was teasing, free hand sliding down the man's taut sides to cup their erections together against his own stomach, rocking his hips in little motions as Hawke’s hands twitched on his waist. 

“Last chance to back out.” He murmured, mostly teasing as he stroked them leisurely together, Garrett’s body deliciously pliant beneath him. 

"With my legs around the most handsome elf I've ever met?" Hawke sounded far breathier than he expected, but Andraste save him, the sound shot straight to his cock. "I think not." Hawke groaned under his breath, trying to rock his hips back up against the elf’s grip. 

Something about his tone, or the soft adoration in his expression melted something in the back of his head, and Fenris leaned forward without really thinking, planting a delicate kiss over the man's heart. He nipped at a nipple, pleased at the slight jump and half-whispered protest when he didn't linger. 

Fenris nosed his way back up with little licks and kisses until he was under the bearded chin, able to sink his teeth into the mark just to the side of his throat that was still too light for his tastes. His hands reached up to cup the sides of Hawke's head, mouth sucking and licking and nipping at the same spot until it bloomed a dark red that promised later bruising.

Fenris hummed, sliding up to straddle the man's waist, high enough to lean over and cage his head to the bed with his elbows, nosing along the side of Hawke's face and laying a slow kiss on the man's cheek bone. Forehead. The bridge of his nose, and blinking when he realized the red streak of oil paint was smeared onto his lips. Well, may as well share. Fenris smeared the red off onto the man's forehead, unable to hold back the small grin at the ridiculous lip prints. His shoulders shook with smothered chuckles, and he leaned back down to capture Hawke's lips in a slow kiss, all warm breaths and gentle coaxing with his lips and tongue. He knew he was being a bit languid in all of this - his instinct was to push and bite and move as quickly as possible so the sex could be /over/ already, but... it was different somehow, with Hawke. The lingering fear just... faded a bit, when it was the man's staticky magic playing on his senses, tucked so tightly away. That was familiar. Unmistakable, he could taste it on his tongue as easily as his lyrium thrummed with the bleed of energy when they were so close. 

So.... maybe he was drawing it out. He'd be able to fuck the man silly in a bit, just... let them have some romance, first. As much as his body could articulate it. As much as he allowed himself to, as Hawke gave him a silly grin for it all, and cupped his ribs in return. Always so patient, letting him take the lead. 

"Do you have any oil tucked away?" He murmured, sliding his hands up and down the wide ribcage, over the dips and ridges of muscle.

"Mmm, course I do. Cabinet by the head of the bed. There's two drawers. It's the top one." He breathed deeply, enjoying the touches. Funny place to find peace. But still perfect, really.

Fenris lingered for a few moments longer before sitting up and crawling off to retrieve the small bottle. He shuffled to the foot of the bed, feeling a bit too lazy with all the affection to really go crazy at the moment.    
He settled himself between Hawke's knees, pulling one leg up to absently kiss the inside of the other man's knee before uncorking the bottle and smearing his fingers with it. Fenris tucked his face down to rest against the man's soft inner thigh, slick fingers trailing along smooth skin until he could slide his finger along the space between legs, pressing gently against his entrance.    
Memory told him that the only time they'd done this, it had been a rather rushed affair. They'd been stone cold sober the first time.  Somehow. And it was frantic and rushed, needy. That and he'd been fucked rather than the reverse. His wine was about burnt off by now, but his mood was too good to start worrying. Fenris leaned over to press soft bites down the jut of muscled hips, letting the full erection bump against his cheek and neck as he doggedly avoided paying it direct attention.    
  


He pressed in, just the barest bit, before sliding out again and continuing the tiny teasing circles that made Hawke squirm.

Fenris felt his lips quirk at a quiet curse, a soft plea to just get on with it already, so he didn't really bother with the first step, two slick fingers pressing in smoothly. He twisted his hand around, palm cupping against the underside of his scrotum while his fingers continued to pull and push, hooking and spreading and touching as much as he could without actually just ghosting in. Giving him friction and pressure enough to make the man's breath stutter, fingers twitch in an instinct to grab something. Fenris let his lips rest against the base of Hawke's manhood, feeling the pulse jump as the organ twitched in excitement, and Hawke's strangled noise when he glanced down at him. 

"F-Fenris!" Breathy and rough. Was that really his voice? He watched Hawke licked his lips, chin tilting up toward the ceiling with a strained arch of his spine when Fenris pressed a bit deeper, that wild hunger curling up in his stomach again.

Like perfect music, Fenris listened to the soft noises his partner made, adjusting his movements to try to pull more out of him. He could feel the skitter of magic across his markings, and realized from the squirming that Hawke must be feeling it as well. The little reactions to magic sparking up the lines on his palms and both sides of his fingers. He pressed a third one in, then pushed all of them a bit deeper again, the tightness relenting only a little. "I bet you could take my entire hand," he remarked absently, not really planning to follow through. Still, it was a delight to see the man so torn apart and ragged from pleasure when Fenris slid his tongue up his shaft, lips wrapping around his tip. He pressed, curled his fingers, searched until he found the perfect spot that made Hawke's back arch up off the bed with a gasp that could have sounded pained in another circumstance, fingers digging into the bed’s blankets.

Of course, after knowing all that, he had to utilize it. He was nothing if not thorough.    
Fenris pulled them out, then touched his fingertips to his entrance, letting the man press back against them if he wished. He focused, easy as breathing at this point, and felt the lyrium light up properly, all cold static and otherworldly fog vanishing into the man's flesh. Not ghosting, not doing any harm, just.... humming. Singing. Alive with potentials. 

Hawke made a choked noise, half a curse and half a surprised squawk, heel digging into the bed and the back of his head pressing hard into the mattress as he tried to grind himself back against the lyrium-laced fingers. 

Fenris pressed a kiss to his shaking thigh, eyes dark with heat as he watched the man's reactions. His own length ached, and he was a thread's strength from snapping and just plunging into him. Still, he wanted to see what this could do. Wanted to see him relaxed and opened up, so this could be comfortable for him. 

Hawke's soft whine broke as he slid one finger in, the second following close behind. Deeper, to watch how tight the man's spine could arch, magic sparking against lyrium, hands shaking. 

Oh, now that was lovely~    
Fenris couldn't stop the pleased rumble in the back of his throat if he had tried, gently scissoring to see the tight tremors race up the man's muscles. He didn't think he'd ever seen Hawke- seen ANYONE, really, this far gone from pleasure instead of pain. It was a strange kind of beauty that he absolutely wanted to see again.

And then, Hawke snapped. 

Arm whipping up over his mouth to muffle the groaning whimper, the man’s erection twitched with spurts of cum dropping to his lower belly, and Fenris froze in surprise for just a moment to watch it happen.

He pulled his fingers out gingerly, lyrium dampening, and Hawke shuddered, eyes closed and body twitching to a boneless slump as his leg collapsed back down beside the elf.

Fenris could feel the hard tremors in the man's legs. 

"F-Fenris... I...  Maker’s arse, Fen…” he panted and Fenris pet the leg next to him absently, waiting for some sign that he was welcome to continue. 

For a few moments the only sound in the room was Hawke's ragged breaths, curses whispered just under his breath. Just as Fenris started accepting that may be the end of it, Hawke's leg moved again, bracketing his side and pressing with his heel to draw him forward.

“Well c’mon, then.” 

Fenris met those tired eyes, giving in and slithering up his body to kiss him again. When their mouths met, it was easy to tell the difference when Hawke was so languid about it, tongue caressing against his lip, his tongue, hands settling sure and easy on his ribs. 

Fenris quickly slicked himself with the oil, wiping the last of it in messy handprints on the outsides of Hawke's thighs as he shifted his hips  closer between them. Long fingers curled gingerly around the man's flagging erection, touching with the gentlest of movement to wait for his (lover, right?) partner to come back into himself. Hawke’s eyes fluttered slightly at even that touch, oversensitive, but the way he spread his legs to let Fenris more comfortably between them was not a rejection. 

They were of similar height, the man perhaps only an inch or two taller, but it was still enough that he had to abandon his mouth in order to align himself properly. He almost didn't catch Hawke's voice when the words were whispered, back arching in anticipation.

“ _ Yes, please” _

 

Andraste’s strength, he must have been blessed to have this man in his life. The roughly spoken words sent shivers of satisfaction down his spine, the feeling of being  _ wanted _ \- of someone like Hawke just offering all of himself - it must have been divine interference. 

"As you wish," He purred, pulling a muscled leg up to test Hawke’s flexibility. It had the bonus of getting a better angle, so he could press himself against the man's opening, his  tip sinking in with little resistance. Satisfied that he wouldn't cause any harm by it, and instinctual pleasure lighting up with the tight sensation, Fenris pushed his hips forward, hooking his elbow under the man's knee to keep him spread wide for him.

Hawke jerked, moaning at the full feeling that came with the slick slide filling him up. 

Fenris moved his hips in little rocking motions, pulling Garrett's other leg up so he could wrap them around Fenris's waist before returning to gently fondle him, waiting for him to get used to it all. He closed his eyes, relishing in the tight heat, his own mind a bit lightheaded from the overwhelming sensations. A dark flush had spread from his cheeks across his shoulders, pupils having been blown wide since he first started fingering the man open. Though he wasn't truly tired, exactly, he still gave into the urge to drape himself forward over the man, pressing his forehead against Hawke's sternum. The two of them moved slowly, Fenris careful not to cause too much friction in case of overstimulation, but from the swelling organ cupped against his stomach, that probably wasn't going to be a problem. 

 

Hawke managed to watch him through half lidded eyes, expression halfway between dazed and adoring. And when he leaned close, Garrett took the chance to kiss him. First on the forehead, drawing his attention to slide their lips together. Slow and wet, and maybe making more than a few pleased sounds into his mouth.

Fenris felt himself relax with a soft whine, reaching forward with one hand to support the back of Hawke's neck, insisting on continuing the messy kiss even while he ground down a bit harder, rolling his hips up to rock the both of them on the mattress. "Hawke, I-" He cut himself off, or maybe he just forgot the words he was going to use. (I love you? I can't live without you? Something needy, desperate, too much of a promise that he knew he couldn't keep). Fenris exhaled, kissing him again with closed eyes, feeling the slide of lips and tongue and maybe getting a bit more drunk off the sensation of it all.    
He broke the kiss, head swimming as he hung it, hips starting to snap forward with a bit more force. Was it bad that he wanted to just wrench this out of the both of them? They'd been going deliciously slow, but he was so ready - pleasure coiled tight in his gut.

Garrett pressed himself back against the force, rolling his hips up and making a tiny sound in the back of his throat with each tight grind down.

He knew the kisses were making him light headed. He was perfectly willing to continue for hours (impractical and in reality unlikely, but still). He relished the sound when Hawke softly cried out, his thrusts carefully faster, carefully deeper. He felt his own arousal pulling tight and threatening the end already, the slick grip around his cock and the man below him responding so beautifully, just building up until he couldn't take it. 

Couldn't help that now, there were more pressing things demanding his restraint, like not biting down on the lovely stretch of throat bared to him as the man below him arched into the bed.

"You're wonderful," he managed, the words caught between heady pants, sentiment only a fraction of what he wished he could express. Hawke had- Just... He'd done so much, pulled him from misery and fought by his side - defended him staunchly against innumerable enemies. There was real trust; something he couldn't remember ever having with someone. Maybe beyond the cliff edge of his lost memories, but now? In this lifetime?   
  


Driven onward by the muffled noises and dazed look on Garrett's face, Fenris braced his knees on the bed, pausing to take a breath before gripping the man's hips and slamming them together as hard and as fast as he could. His own end was quickly approaching, and he wanted to see the man undone. There might be fingertip bruises come morning, and the slap of skin, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. The swirling anxiety and wild worries that constantly plagued his mind seemed to have skirted away, leaving only a sharp focus on the man in front of him, and the pleasure they wrought together.

  
Andraste's mercy, he couldn't last. 

With only half a thought, he lit up his lyrium again, eyes nearly black with how wide his pupils had dilated when Hawke choked, legs clamping around him. The moment he wrapped his fingers around the man's cock, Hawke fell to pieces, somehow dead silent with fists clinging desperately to the sheets as Fenris pumped him quickly.  
He choked back a small whimper when he felt Hawke's second orgasm pulse weakly over his fist, hips stuttering as the tight coil unleashed up his own spine, completion overtaking him almost completely on accident. He gasped, grip faltering and hips jerking as the pulses slowly subsided, lyrium dimming, gaze growing hazy.

He groaned, panting against the crook of neck and shoulder, every sense full of this man. 

Fenris slid down with a soft noise of his own. Following the tugging on his arm, he pressed his face against Hawke's upper arm, breathing in trembling breaths. "Something about cleaning up..." he mumbled. Heart rate slowly decreasing. Fenris slapped his hand weakly on the man's side, paused, then patted the skin in a small reminder. "Rag or something." Abandoning his own train of thought, Fenris snuggled more thoroughly around the man's chest, tucking his chin into the crook of his shoulder and nose pressed against the side of his neck.

Hawke groaned at the reminder, clearly already half asleep, exhausted. 

"Ugh, in the morning, please. Mercy Fenris..." It was muddled, almost slurred, and Hawke just tilted his head to rest against Fenris' hair. 

Fenris privately thought Hawke would be displeased to wake up literally glued together by ejaculate, but didn't feel like pushing. Besides, there was something animalistically satisfying about smelling himself all over Hawke's skin. The difference in their cleanliness habits could wait another day.

He hooked his heel under a blanket, dragging if it toward them so Garrett could grab onto it.  A moment passed with no movement, and Fenris peeked up, huffing a small breath of a laugh when he found the man had already passed out, sprawled gracelessly. He didn't really blame him, to be honest. 

His own heartbeat was slowing, the chemical rush of orgasm doing its job to make him drowsy, and for once... for the first time in a long time, he realized he'd gone the entire night without anything reminding him of his past. No strange memories of family, no flashbacks to-   
  


Nothing but the two of them, sharing a night.   
  
He looked out through the bars on the window, at the bats and the stars, and the flickering fire in lamps out on the street. He sighed, dragging himself up out of bed. 

He gathered up his armor, and found a rag to clean himself, careful not to step on any creaking floorboards. 

Fenris placed them in a small pile, padded back to the bed, and did a quick job of cleaning his partner as well, before skirting back in under the covers, snugging up next to the warm body. 

_ Just until morning..... he did promise, after all.  _


	12. sweethearts and sunshine

When Garrett awoke, it was as much to the gentle knock of Orana’s knuckles on his door, as it was the odd energy of his magic. 

"...Messere? I'll be starting breakfast after the girls are up and ready. Do you need a bath drawn or anything?"

Something was…. Off, somehow. His magic was practically humming under his skin, twitching like a living thing and singing brightly like he’d downed too many lyrium potions at once. His fingertips just about tingled with it. Not a ‘bad’ off, really, and if it was anything like the lyrium potion problem, he’d just have to bleed off enough mana until things settled down a bit. 

Memories trickled in from the night before, and he hoped absently that the warmth leaning against his arm was Fenris, and not the pillow he’d left again. For a moment he refused to look, hoping that he could exist in dreamland for a bit longer. 

When he pried his eyes open, the warm weight on his shoulder solidified into something real.

Oh. 

He knew Orana was waiting for an answer, but- Maker, he was caught up like a love-struck fool. He didn't dare disturb the sleeping elf beside him, cognizant enough to know a miracle when he saw one. Whatever drunken promises they made last night, it would not have stopped Fenris from leaving had he wished it.

The rich, golden light of morning spilled through the defensive bars on his window, slicing weak fire across the head of white hair resting against him. Pale lines of Lyrium in the elf’s dark skin almost glittered up close, iridescent and silvery and Hawke almost couldn't believe how damn beautiful Fenris was. How perfect it felt to feel the tangle of fine hair tickle his neck when Fenris shook his head and burrowed a bit more snugly under the comforter. 

Something low and sad twisted in his gut when he reminded himself that those lines were the scars of a horrific past - That even if he assured Fenris he’d be just as beautiful without them, the topic was not something he should bring up unprompted. 

Garrett shifted his hand, brushing the side of his thumb along the warm skin of Fenris’s side, hardly able to breathe as he watched his face scrunch into a wide yawn, sharp eyeteeth glinting in the warm morning light. Green eyes blinked sleepily up at him, and Garrett mentally shook himself out of the daze. 

“No thank you, Orana!” He called out, still unable to tear his gaze away as Fenris closed his eyes again, head leaning slowly like he was losing a battle with sleep. Garrett felt a small smile twitch the corner of his mouth, and slid his palm a bit more deliberately across the exposed skin of Fenris’s lower back. 

“Good morning.” He murmured, leaning slightly to press his lips to the white crowned head, whispering into the smell of hair, “Hope you slept well.” 

Fenris hummed softly, tilting his head to press his face more firmly into Hawke’s neck. 

“Warm” Fenris mumbled into his neck. 

Silence drew out for a few long moments, then Fenris muttered something unintelligible, but could have been interpreted as ‘Good morning” or “What are you doing?” or “Take the ring” 

“Yeah.” Garrett agreed softly, to something he couldn’t understand. 

Eventually they'd have to move but.... Not just yet. Not when he could enjoy holding him just a little longer. Fenris had hesitantly agreed to stay until morning, so what time left was wearing dangerously thin. Hawke didn't want to think about Fenris slinking out again as soon as he turned his back, and pretending it never happened. 

“I did sleep well,” he continued, trying to memorize the feeling of his fingertips gliding feather-light over skin and the change in texture where the Lyrium sat just under the surface. “Depending on your definition of it.”

The elf on his chest blinked his eyes open, lifting his head enough to tilt it. "Depending..?" The jade green gaze flitted down, presumably to the bite-sized bruise he could feel, high on his throat. 

"You're not hurt are you?" Fenris was already moving to try to get up, shrugging off the blanket. 

"Well I could use more sleep,” Garrett answered hurriedly, sure he shouldn’t bring up the restless magic sparking inside him. No need to cause undue worry! “and I am a bit hungover, but far from the worst I've ever had..." He tilted his head obediently as those long fingers investigated the mark under his jaw, and tried to calm the other down further, "But I had a pleasant dream, and that's worth something, right?" He stayed laying, letting the other do as he wished, sighing as the investigation continued. "I'd hope it'd be clear by now that I'm not exactly fragile."

Fenris squinted suspiciously at him, but only for a moment. The mild glare faded off the elf's face and he settled back to sit on his heels, thigh pressing against his own.  Garrett hummed, admiring the nakedness. He wasn't terribly aroused at the moment, but it was still… nice, he supposed. Intimate, in the casual dismissal of its relevance. 

"I do not think you're fragile," Fenris protested lowly, even as he checked the skin around Garrett's hips. Though the pleased expression that crossed his face and the fingertips squeezing into a bruise that Garrett felt just over the jut of his hip didn't speak of even the slightest displeasure at what he found. The combination sent a wave of warmth and he had to take a slow breath, to keep his state at ‘not aroused’. 

Thin fingers traced swirls on his abdomen, pulling at the magic inside him in a... interesting fashion. Hawke didn't know what he was doing, but it seemed purposeful, rhythmic. What he could only describe as the  _ song _ of the Lyrium kept shifting, and his own overeager magic dancing eagerly to respond. 

Hawke pulled himself on his elbows, watching the other quizzically, habit and concern keeping the otherworldly energy reigned tightly in.

"I shouldn't have-" Fenris stopped, frowned, then peeked up at Hawke's face for only a moment. "There's nothing strange going on with your….magic, is there? Not after I-” Fenris stumbled, obviously becoming frustrated.

He didn't let the other continue, putting the pieces together quickly. "If anything starts feeling off, I'll be sure to let you know." Lie. He knew what was wrong, but he also knew that admitting Fenris might have gone too far would also push the elf away again.

Hawke pushed himself to sit the rest of the way up and dared to press a kiss to the bridge of Fenris' nose. A nose which scrunched up rather cutely under his touch.

Fenris didn't dwell any longer after the kiss, leaning back and clambering off the bed to gather his clothes. (When had they been folded? He didn’t remember the two of them being that tidy.) 

Hawke rolled out of the comfortable warm spot they’d made, twisting around when he felt a finger poking his back. Fenris was still scowling, looking two parts irritated, one part worried, and another part slightly unnerved. "I did activate my markings inside of you. If anything does happen-“ 

He smiled, not really worried about it.

“Yesterday I swear, it felt like I was going to set something on fire. Whatever you did, it felt really good. But it’s alright now”

Understatement of the Age. He felt fine. 

Hawke was pretty sure that if he had been truly poisoned by the lyrium, he'd be more than feeling it by now. Hawke shifted around a shirt in his hands and tugging the sleeve out from its bunched-up lump, grin tempered by an intrusive thought reminding him that Fenris would be leaving soon. That he was still watching him carefully, like he knew-

“If you’re sure…” Fenris murmured, and Garrett slid his shirt on over his head, pausing halfway when he realized he’d put in on backwards. Maker’s arse he could be so smooth with everyone else, why couldn’t he pull himself together for the one person he actually wanted to impress? He yanked his shirt off, then back on again, licking his lips and watching Fenris finish clothing himself. 

“Fenris? Would you... Like to stay for breakfast? Or...” Ugly, increasingly familiar anxiety pressed at his throat at the question, already anticipating a refusal.

There was a long draw of silence that didn't help the crawling feeling rushing under his skin. 

“I...” The hesitance in Fenris' voice nearly made Hawke jump into excusing the other from the invitation, “You don't need to-” “I suppose I would-”

Hawke barked a surprised laugh, pulling his gaze down from the far wall to smile sheepishly at the elf. It was strange to realize that he'd been resisting the urge to look at the other. 

He scratched his forehead, blinking when he felt- He looked down at his hand and noticed familiar red paint under his fingernails.

Fenris chuckled softly, "You should leave the paint as it is," his hair swayed as he considered the smeared kiss marks on Hawke's head. "It's a good look for you." Garrett wondered if he was imagining the softness on the other's face.

He sighed and chuckled, grabbing a dirtied shirt from off the floor and rubbed off his forehead. "Believe me, were it just going to be the two of us, I'd be more than happy to oblige, but I imagine it's going to be hard enough explaining the hickeys when the children inevitably notice." Hawke smiled, trying to keep his nerves and things casual between them. "I'm sure there will be plenty of chances to try it out again, if you fancy the look so."

Fenris' jaw worked slightly for a moment before he spoke, voice smooth and low. "I could leave some where they can't see."

Garrett’s pulse jumped.

"That’s not a bad idea for next time." Even the possibility of a next time, even just one, made Hawke's heart flutter. Still he jumped past the subject, "I... imagine Varric will have quite a bit to say when he sees it, won't he? Maker, that's going to be a good time." He groaned jokingly, "I certainly hope he doesn't put us in some dreadful spin off of 'Swords and Shields'."

Fenris gave a little exhale of a chuckle, leaning back against the bed. He took hold of Hawke and pulled him in, their knees bumping and tangling together when Fenris sat down.

Hawke tilted his chin slightly, focus zeroing back down until it felt like his body was a staff just a half-moment from a bolt of lighting - all singular focus and breathless energy. Control- Control, he had to wait. 

Fenris’s thumb brushed against his bite-marked neck, and Garrett realized he wasn’t even breathing as those beautifully deadly hands pulled him in a bit closer, lips brushing even in the light of day - even not intoxicated. He held himself so still he could feel his muscles creaking, eyes sliding shut to soak in the feeling of dry lips sliding and pressing in the barest of kisses. 

Both of them jolted when a knock rapped out against the door. 

"Breakfast is prepared, Messere Hawke. And the girls are dressed for the day as well." Hawke leaned back as Fenris pulled his hands away, keeping his eyes closed.

"Ah, thank you Orana! I'll be just a bit longer. You can all start without me!"

Relief rushed through him when he felt Fenris touch him again, and he didn’t open his eyes as palms slid over his shoulders and up the back of his neck 

"Just a bit, hnm?" Fenris slowly combed his fingers through Hawke's hair, "I wonder how many times you've eaten your breakfast cold after 'just a bit’?"

Hawke leaned into every touch, humming happily. Trying not to smile like the pleased bastard he felt like. "Well, I am a mage so.... Never. Though, Mother was always extremely unhappy with me arriving to breakfast late. For you though... I'd endure all her scorn with a smile."

"I'm sure that's high praise indeed." Fenris stated solemnly, then paused like he had noticed something. 

“You're... a lot like a dog." Fenris quickly looked away as Hawke’s eyes snapped open, tensing up and trying to back away when there wasn't any space, "I mean, loyal, friendly. Not-"

Hawke was cackling before Fenris could really start correcting himself, head leaning in to rest on his shoulder.

"Oh! Maker's blessings I-" It took him a few seconds, the startled laugh huffing out of him before he caught his breath. "Oh that's…”

His chuckles tapered off, and Hawke tilted his head slightly to speak toward Fenris’s chest, startled, half-nervous laughter curling into fondness.

“I… hope I'm your dog, if that's the case. Don’t you dare try and dodge the 'hairy and smelly' part.” He leaned back to peek at his expression. “Maker knows those may be the truest parts of it all!"

Fenris gave him a flat look, nudging him away enough to stand back up. "Ease off then, you great beast. I'd like to eat something that isn't room temperature, at the very least." His eyes darted down for a moment to Garrett's throat, back up, and then away again as he pulled away and headed for the door.

It was nice, watching Fenris. Any little movement was something to try and remember. Hawke thought of wrapping his arms around Fenris' waist. ...Still so thin. Perhaps after a lifetime, that's all he ever would be. As though his body had forgotten something so basic as how to put on weight. Or maybe he was rushing, and Fenris was still used to providing his body with only the bare minimums to survive…. Maybe it would come in time and it just... Wasn't quick. Or perhaps elves were just Like That.

He had only just gotten out of that abandoned mess of a mansion. Garrett sighed, scrubbing at his forehead again.  "Go on without me then. I ought to put myself together more."

Part of him feared that insisting on going downstairs together with him would be taken badly, . It implied things about a relationship he wasn’t sure they had. Was one drunken tumble and a nice morning a relationship? 

 

Fenris gave a small hand gesture that could have been interpreted as a wave goodbye, before slinking out the door and toward the source of the most sound.


	13. Eluvean and the New House

Adjusting to this new life was not an easy thing, for Ishale and Eluvean.

While the Hawk-with-an-e had offered then a beautiful large bedroom, offered them lavish meals and invited strange people over to measure and present clothes for them… everything still felt wrong.

Mama and Papa were…. Gone. Dead. Every morning she woke up, she expected to feel Papa’s hand on her hair, or smell the oils of Mama’s herb harvesting. Every morning, she was startled by unfamiliar smells and sounds and textures that were _too soft_ . The bed was too soft, the blankets too soft, her new clothes light and fine and _too soft!_  After the first exhausted night where she’d have passed out on stones if given the chance, Eluvean struggled to get to sleep, the bed swallowing her like the pressure of loss and the need to protect Ishale. They might be twins, but her sister was shy, and she needed someone to stand up for her!

Ishale was... still having nightmares, and Eluvean found herself groggy and grumpy in the morning, half from the thrashing and half from her dislike of the bed. Sometimes she stayed awake all night to watch over Ishale, and try to wake her when things got really bad. There was nothing else she could think to do to help. Some dark part of her was terrified that if she looked away, Ishale would be stolen away, too.

And then she’d be alone…

Part of her was happy when Ishale decided she didn’t want to talk to anyone else, only whispering in Eluvean’s ear and having her parrot the message back to whoever needed to hear it. It let her hold her twin’s hand, and keep her close. They _needed_ each other!

Hawk-with-an-e kept dancing around them, always gentle, but insistent they not leave the house, not play with anything sharp.. He switched often between his soft coats and the spiky shell of armor, always offering to scoop them up and hovering anxiously whenever they tried to push him away. Always asking what they wanted, or trying to herd them toward tables to learn about letters and numbers and how to put them together.

Elu wanted to hiss at him, to demand Papa back to teach them instead - he had already been teaching them some- but… Papa was gone, wasn’t he?

So the two of them obeyed the ushering, listlessly solving what problems they could with the numbers, and wrapping their hands around quills crafted for a hand much bigger than theirs.

The elf woman - Orana - seemed to respect their boundaries a bit more, hovering outside their space and offering food and treats, letting them duck in and out of the kitchen without complaint, so long as they didn’t mess things up too much.. Letting them follow her around like ducklings up and down the huge house’s stairs as she tidied things and refilled the fireplaces with wood. She never tried to talk to them, but Eluvean always felt a bit better when there was an extra pair of eyes on her sister. Several times, she woke with a start, realizing belatedly that she’d fallen asleep next to Ishale’s lap, and the other girl had begun tangling braids into her hair as they sat sprawled in the middle of a room while Orana’s soft sound of chores lulled her back to sleep..

The twins didn’t really see the Dwarves very often - either they were outside the house (where they weren’t allowed to go, and frankly Elu didn’t WANT to go, after Hawk told them they couldn’t go back home) or they were holed up inside their own room. Sometimes, outside of the meals Hawk insisted they ate together, the human would try to play with them, slowly filling the small chest at the end of their bed with stuffed monsters and carved animals. Hawk’s smiles were earnest, but there was something strange in the corners of his expressions whenever he looked at them. She’d asked, once, but he’d only said that his brother and sister had been twins, and changed the subject.

After a few rough nights alone, and a few more where Hawk had nestled down on the edge of their bed, telling stories late into the night, until Ishale was distracted enough that she could fall asleep soundly, the girl seemed to grow some fondness for him. She’d just as happily scramble up into his lap as stick to Elu’s side, and the idea of that irked her. Eluvean ended up sitting next to the two of them as Hawk waxed poetic about magic, and the interesting town he’d lived in before Kirkwall. Sometimes he spoke of his siblings, with a silted tone and hesitant pauses as he considered the answers Ishale asked. He taught her how to calm her magic when she was upset, and how to send of harmless little sparks when she was feeling restless, to let off some energy.  

Eluvean was not jealous.

She wasn’t.

However, was a little happy when Hawk kept leaving on errands. She looked forward to the letters that had him sigh about the house, because it meant he was about to don his armor and leave for the rest of the day. She’d have the day alone with Ishale, like they used to have. Like they were _supposed_ to have.

 

The only one both of them agreed was _nice_ and _good_ was the Mabari that spent most of his time lounging in front of the fire, if they weren’t playing with him. And boy, could that dog play. The two of them would run shrieking from one end of the house to the other, the beast’s loping strides eating up space behind them while he grinned a wide doggy smile. They’d always collapse together at the end, and he’d let them pet his wiry fur and lean into them as they scratched under his thick leather collar. Like this, they could almost pretend they were away on an adventure, instead of trapped-

Elu shook away the thought, slumping over the dog (she’d never really bothered ot learn his name) and let her bruised eyelids slowly close. Ishale was humming something nonsensical, smoothing her palms over the dog’s wrinkly face, pressing little kisses to his nose and giggling when he kissed back, little motes of light sparkling in the fur where she ruffled her fingers into it.

“Enchantment?” The soft voice barely caught Elu’s attention, so wrapped up in the warmth and slow breathing of the huge animal under her. Ishale’s restless sleep was still keeping her up occasionally, the bitten-off gasps and mumbled words scaring the girl into keeping vigil, sleeping when her body couldn’t keep going.

She heard Issie make a soft, curious noise, still refusing to speak to anyone else properly. Elu hummed sleepily, dragging her head back up. The dwarf…. San-something. He kept repeating that word, petting the dog’s fur and reaching out to tug on the hem of Ishale’s sleeve. Ishale kept edging away a little, watching him uncertainly.

Protective instincts rising, Elu shook herself a bit more awake, glaring at the dwarf and bristling when he reached again for Ishale’s sleeve.   
“Ellie-!” The whispered, half-panicked voice reached through her sleepiness and wrenched a response from her. Without even thinking, she’d shoved the taller dwarf. He yelped, and Ishale barked a small, startled noise. He stumbled only a step and caught her shoulder with his palm to steady himself. Elu didn’t want him touching him, but the alarm had bypassed her tongue, humming straight through her veins.   
Eluvean twisted around, sinking her teeth into his forearm and flinching when a burst of _energy_ rippled out through the air. The Mabari howled, lunging up to his feet and Ishale screamed, little sparks of flames scattering from her fingertips.   
“Atch! No! What’s going on?!”

The older dwarf was back, and Ellie reluctantly pried her mouth off the boy’s arm, hissing angrily when he shoved her away, tears rolling down his cheeks as he glared back at her and cradled his arm close to his chest.   
Eluvean tripped backward to put herself between Ishale and the older dwarf, the Mabari pacing just on the edge of their dispute, whining in confusion. She could taste blood and something weird, and wiped her mouth on her sleeve.   
“Child, did you _bite_ my boy?” He seemed to bristle back at her, and she hunched her shoulders defensively, angrily.

“He wouldn’t leave us alone.” Eluvean glared at the taller boy (and really, she didn’t know how old he was, but he acted like a boy, so that’s what he was.)

“ _Enchantm-”_ Sandal’s lip wobbled, and he shook his head, backing away from the much smaller girls and retreating to his room.

“Eluvean, you can’t bite everyone you disagree with.” His clucked tongue only made her get more defensive, scowling.

“I bit him because he wasn’t leaving her alone!”

“Did you try to use your words, first?” She hated the patent tone of his voice, and bared her teeth at him. Finally, he sighed, following his son back into their shared room and leaving the two of them be.

Elu was quick to check her sister - unharmed, just startled. The Mabari came back to them, wuffing their fingers and pressed his side against theirs as the dry smell of conjured smoke and fire faded from the room.

Hawke returned home late that day, and tried to bring her and the boy together so she could apologize. Eluvean just hissed again at Sandal, who curled in on himself defensively, gaze half confusion and half baleful sadness.   
“Eluvean, you can’t bite everything that upsets you.” Hawk bent over to pick her up by the waist as he repeated what the dwarf had said. She pushed at his hand, but he tried to pick her up anyway. “You know that, ri-aaah shit” As soon as he’d settled her in his arms, she decided to prove him wrong, grinding her teeth down into his bicep until he let go in a reflexive recoil, and she squirmed out of his grasp to sprint back to her room. Ishale was already on the bed, not part of the scolding anyway, and watched guilelessly as her twin clumsily locked the latch, angrily piling pillows and pushing their mostly-full chest of unused toys across the floor in front of the door.   
“Eluvian, that hurt.” Hawk had an angry voice through the wood, and Elu threw the last heavy pillow into the pile, crawling under the bed and wedging herself in the middle while Issie crawled under with her.   
“ _What’s going on?_ ” Issie whispered into her shoulder.   
“Hawk is being mean.”   
“Eluvean, you open this door right now.” His voice had dropped in timbre, and the two of them tensed up, eyeing the door together.

“ _Elu, I wanna go home.”_ Eluvean nodded in agreement, fingernails digging into the thick rug that covered most of their floor.  The doorknob rattled, and they jumped a little.

“Me too.”

“ _Can we go?”_ Elu glanced at her sister, then up toward the window - barred, like every other glass pane in the house. Orana said it was to protect from intruders, since Kirwall was ‘harsh at night’ but right now it just felt like the bars of a cage.

“I dunno.” She whispered back.

“Eluvean, you open this door right now.”

“No!” She shouted, frowning at the door when she heard a soft thunk on it, and a slow exhale.

“Issie, could you please open the door for your sister?”

Eluvean shot an alarmed look at her sister, watching the conflicted expression spread distress across her features. She caught Elu’s eye, and bit her lip.

Eluvean exhaled a gusty sigh when Ishale shook her head, snuggling a bit closer to her side.

They still had each other.

“Ishale says No!” Eluvean shouted at the door, over soft voices speaking on the other side.  She tried listening in, but they were moving away.

After a few long minutes wheren no one tried opening the door again, and Hawk seemed to have left them alone, the twins wiggled out from under the bed, working together to pile a bit more stuff in front of the doorway before taking their last blanket and crawling into the wardrobe on the far end of the room. It was small, and a bit tight for the two of them to squeeze into and still sit down, but it felt _safe_ . It smelled like old wood and a bit of dust ( _familiar_ ) and let them tangle their legs together as each of them leaned against an opposite side.

Through the tiny crack in the hinge, Ishale’s amber eyes gleamed, the expression tired. A fierce wave of protectiveness crawled up her spine, and Eluvean tucked her feet in on either side of her sister’s thighs, leaning back against the wood and dreaming of an escape back to their old lives.

 

\---

 

Tck-tick…. Tck….

Eluvean blinked her eyes open at the soft ticking, reaching up to rub the corner of her eye. Suddenly, a hinge squeaked slightly, and some of their pile shifted. Eluvean woke completely, back stiffening.   
“Well, that’s quite the pile.” An amused voice, and the pillows and chest were pushed around, and Eluvean curled her legs up away from her sleeping sister. She coiled them under her, shifting minutely to pull the wardrobe doors a bit tighter closed.   
The windows rattled slightly, and Hawk sighed. “Still locked, thank goodness.”

“What, you think they’d be able to unlock the windows and escape?” She knew that voice was familiar…

“Honestly,” Hawk’s voice was getting closer. “I wouldn’t put it past them. Not under the bed.”

They were looking for her.

Ishale inhaled sharply, shifting with a soft groan as she woke up from the short nap.

A soft ‘tap tap tap’ on the wardrobe door, and Eluvean kept her grip on the inner edges of the door, keeping it tight.

“Darlings, I know you’re in there.You can come out now.”

Ishale was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, and Eluvean refused to let the doors open. Then, quite suddenly, it was no longer really her choice. Someone was pulling on the handles, too strong for her fingertips to keep it in place. She let them go, bristling angrily, and angling herself to stay in front of Ishale.

The Dwarf from before… Varric? He opened the doors with a soft sort of sad look on his face, stepping back a little when she tensed up.

“Hey there, tiger. I’m not going to hurt you.” He opened his hands, showing ink-stained, calloused palms. She glanced up at Hawk, at his sad, frustrated expression, and refused to back down. She blinked when Varric sat, folding his legs in front of him and leaning back.

“You two have caused quite a ruckus, I’ve heard.” He started, scratching his head. Hawk slumped down to sit on the edge of their bed across the room. Eluvean didn’t answer.

“Scared poor Sandal pretty badly, between the fire and your teeth.”

She bared them at Varric, and a hint of a smile twitched his mouth.

“You’ve been taking care of them, I see.” The smile dropped away. “Unfortunately, since you attacked him, you are in trouble. Hawke’s supposed to be diciplining you two, but it looks like he’s a big softie, and he’s making Uncle Varric do it.” Varric sighed, rolling his head back to cast his eyes skyward.

“So that means you’re grounded to your room, lil’ tiger.”

Eluvean didn’t move, not terribly impressed. She’d been grounded by Mama and Papa, it wasn’t so bad.

Two days later, it WAS so bad.

She was allowed to leave for meals, but otherwise had to stay confined in their room. It was almost as big as their whole, house, but it felt heart-achingly confining when Ishale was ushered away from her, told to play elsewhere despite her twin's attempts to sit with her through the duration. Now, off exploring the house with Orana, or running around with Max, (The Mabari, she’d finally learned his name) Eluevean struggled to hold back the jealousy and frustration nipping at her heels.

Varric stuck around, telling stories to Ishale just close enough to their room that Eluvean could catch most of the words.

Eluvean spent the first day pretending everything was fine, playing with the toys she low-key hated, talking to Ishale when her sister hung around. The second day, though… She’d started throwing things.

The walls were all made of stone, so it’s not like she did any damage, but they made satisfying noises when she flung wooden figures against the walls, watching them bounce or splinter. She knocked over the dresser, ripping the drawers out and scattering the contents across the room. She hated this stupid house. Hated Hawk’s stupid face, hated those dwarves, hated being trapped and alone and abandoned by everyone and-

She didn’t realize she’d been crying until her flailing fists had been caught, Hawk gently pulling her into a hug. He let her scream into his chest until she was exhausted, and she resented him for it.

“Hate you. I wanna go home.” she mumbled, and he pet the top of her head.

“I know.” Hawk sighed, and she felt a curl of guilt for the sadness in his voice. “Those… the furniture was my mother’s you know.” She didn’t know that. “She died… almost a year ago.”

Eluvean opened her eyes, seeing the destruction she’d spread across the room. The cracked drawers, and the broken support strut she’d kicked in to hear it snap.

“I thought I could trust you with her room, but… I guess not.”

Tears welled up fresh in her eyes as she wiggled again, trying to struggle out of his arms. It wasn't fair. They'd lost everything, he couldn't- He couldn't blame her for-   
Eluvean remembered the hurt she felt when she realized someone had even just moved her parent’s things, or taken them. Now she’d just done the same to Hawk over a grounding that she did, if she were honest with herself, deserve.

Her struggles slowed, forehead pressing into his chest as a soft "Sorry" was mumbled into his coat.  “I can fix it.” He held her close, not letting her out of his arms.

“No you can’t Ellie. It’s broken.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you really?”

She hated the cold, distant voice, and nodded into his chest.

“M’sorry.”  She sniffed, and realized Ishale had edged into the room and was watching her. She turned her head away, hunching her shoulders. The evening sunset was turning the far window orange, and she wished her heart didn’t feel so hollowed out so she could enjoy it.

“It’s getting late,” Hawk murmured, “So you can stay grounded for the rest of the day. I’ll talk to you about this in the morning.”

He released her, and Eluvean crumpled down on the ground, not looking at him and not getting up when he stood and walked away. She could see Ishale’s knees when her sister walked close, but at Hawk's reminder, the other girl left before she could think of anything to say.

 

Eluvean tried putting things back in order, but… Hawk had been right. It really was broken. She pushed the splinters together, folded the clothes as best she could, and despaired over how sloppy the piles were. She gathered up the little toys, putting away the dented-but-whole ones, and carefully fitting the splinters back together on the broken ones.

Night fell, and she realized Ishale still wasn’t joining her.

Elu curled into the blankets, and cried herself to sleep.

 

\--

In the days following, the dwarves moved out. She didn’t hear the reason why, but the boy had given her a scared look, and she could connect the dots.

Varric had come by again, along with an elf lady she didn’t recognize, who had curling designs across her face. The adults and Ishale worked together with some smelly glue and thin nails, putting things back together as best they could.

Elu, technically not grounded any longer, stayed in the room. It still felt like a cage, but the guilt and anger kept her tethered. At least Max let her pet him in the doorway, though he refused to come into the room. She tried to speak up, to offer to help, but they were talking among themselves, and she felt too wretched to interrupt.

 

\---

 

Ishale was blooming into quite the social butterfly. Her sleep had gotten better as well.

Eluvean tried not to resent her as the two of them worked on their letters, Ishale talking animatedly to Hawk, spattering ink with the flailing of her quill. A tall, imposing woman had visited earlier in the day, watching over them while Hawk was away. She’d offered to teach Eluvean about her armor, about swords, about the guarding of a city. Ishale sat down and listened eagerly.

Elu curled up in front of the fireplace, letting tired daydreams drown out the woman’s voice, and her sister’s eager questions.

 

\--

“Alright, touch your toes”

Eluvean did as she was told, the emptiness reminding her that there was really nothing better to do anyway, so she may as well.

“Stand on one foot…. Hands stretched up over your head, alright. Any aches and pains?”

“No.” She let the light-haired human look in her mouth, only faintly amused at the surprised expression he got.

“I didn’t realize….”

“Hm?” Hawk perked up from his seat across the room, folding the letter he’d been reading into his lap. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, no, I just didn’t realize elves had teeth like that. I suppose I’ve never needed to look in their mouth before.” The human paused, adding “No cavities, though.”

Hawke huffed a small laugh.

“Well, I could have told you she had strong teeth, with how much she likes to bite people.”

The man glanced at her, now obviously surprised.

“Was that you? I thought he’d been bitten by a wild animal. Though I suppose the shape WAS weird for that…” Eluvean bristled slightly, but deflated a moment later, her ire draining away. There was no point.

She watched Ishale get the same check over, her sister asking questions about his jacket, why he smelled so weird, what were the satchels on his belt for? Elu let Hawk usher her forward for a second check of her forehead and eyes, obeying the directions as much as she could.

“Hawke, I don’t think she’s ill.”

“She has to be, it’s been a week and she’s still hardly talking at all. You didn’t see her when she got here, she was completely different-”

“Hawke, she’s-” He lowered his voice, but she could still hear him from across the room. “She’s an orphan. She’s a kid. She’s probably depressed. Her sister’s just… adapting differently. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

Eluvean leaned against the wall, exhaling slowly and closing her eyes.

\---

 

Somewhere along the line, Eluvean had gotten used to not getting much sleep. While Ishale slept soundly through the night, Elu found herself getting up and wandering around the house, watching people outside through the window as night crept across the sky.

She laid with Max for a while, petting the dog’s flank and listening to him breathe. She carefully lit a candle from the embers glowing in the hearth, and scribbled drawings on the rough paper Hawk had provided them. She always tossed them to burn up on the embers before morning came, not wanting to have to explain their contents to anyone when they woke up.

She tried sleeping in all the different rooms, and sometimes managed to drift off in a corner somewhere, or tucked under a pile of pillows dragged off the beds from the Dwarves’ room. Or, what had been their room.

 

One night, she heard sounds from upstairs, and found Hawk’s door unlocked. She peeked inside, his sleeping face pulled into a grimace.

She pushed open the door just enough to slip inside, resting her elbows and chin on the edge of the bed to watch him sleep for a bit.

He had the same restless sort of squirming that Ishale did when she was upset, lips moving like he was talking to someone. She shifted a little, not quite comfortable with her bare feet on the cold, hard floor, and her hip bumped his nightstand.

The wood clanked, and Hawk shot upright, light flashing bright enough to blind her. She yelped, falling back on her butt, and the air turned crisp and sharp as a wave of _cold_ rushed over where her head had been.

A beat of silence while she rubbed her eyes, and the bed shifted.

“Ellie?”

Eluvean finally blinked away most of the spots, and looked up at him.

“What’re you doing up so late?”

She considered not answering, but there was no point.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She mumbled, rolling forward and climbing back onto her feet. “You weren’t sleeping well.” Hawk seemed taken-aback by that, gathering his blankets around his waist and sitting upright.

“Well, I go to the Fade when I dream, and sometimes Spirits find me, or demons, so it’s not always nice.”

Eluvean hummed, twisting a bit of her hair between her fingers.

“I thought the Fade was where magic came from?”

“Yeah, it is, but it’s also where Mages go when they dream. It’s also where you go when you dream, but non-mages usually can’t remember their dreams.”

Eluvean frowned, turning that over in her head.

“Maybe, but… I don’t really like sleeping, either. So maybe they’re still bothering me, even if I can’t remember.”

Hawk was silent for a few long moments, and Eluvean let her eyes wander around his room, the space she’d seen with Orana looking different when lit by moonlight.

“I could try to protect you in the Fade, if you wanted to try to get to sleep again, tonight.”

She blinked up at him.

“Why not Ishale?”

He tilted his head at her.

“Well, we can invite Ishale too, if you think she needs protection.”

Eluvean nodded tiredly. “She does.”

Hawk nodded back.

“Alright. If you could step out for a moment, I’ll get up and grab Ishale, and we can all sleep and I’ll protect you, does that sound alright?”

Eluvean considered him for a moment, the ache in her bones and muscles telling her it was a VERY good idea to try to sleep. She nodded, and wandered out the door.

A few seconds and a lot of shuffling later, Hawk followed her over to their room, scooped Ishale up (Blankets and all) and carried her back to his room. He settled her sister down, and she didn’t even wake.

Eluvean climbed into the bed, curling up next to her sister, stiff and quiet as Hawk laid down on her other side, tucking the blanket up over them all. He relaxed into the bed, closing his eyes. Elu hummed, lacing her fingers into Ishale’s limp hand, sticking her feet out so they butted against the much warmer ribs of the human next to them. Hawk jumped a little, hissing at the cold, but huffed a soft laugh at her.

Eluvean ended up falling asleep with her head touching Ishale’s shoulder, and only woke up when sunlight started streaming across her face, and Ishale was getting up to leave the bed.

For the first time in a long time, she felt rested.

 

\--

 

Ishale was still more chatty than she was, still the first to ask questions and dive into new activities, but Elu could feel herself livening up a little. Every once in a while she still poked her way into Hawk’s room, insisting he get up and grab her sister as well for another protective pile when she couldn’t seem to fall asleep herself.

She still itched to get out of the house, but it didn’t feel quite so suffocating anymore.

Eluvean barely noticed when Hawk started coming home smelling of another elf, a spring in his step, and careful hope kept tucked away. She did notice when that elf showed up at their home, stepping in close to Hawk and speaking in low tones she could barely make out before Orana ushered them to their room.

She’d be annoyed, but… Hawk seemed happy to see him, and it was getting easier to fall asleep with just her and Ishale. .

Maybe it was alright.

 

Maybe they’d be alright.


	14. Pink and Black

Fenris turned down Orana’s offer to plate him, snagging a piece of dried meat and an apple before heading for the door. The children were already seated at the table for breakfast, talking in low voices to each other and shooting him looks that they probably thought were discreet.

The amber-eyed one, _mage_ his mind whispered, brushed her magic against his markings, the little tingle making her eyes widen in surprise.

He slipped outside, into the warm summer morning. The skies were dark with clouds, air humid in a heavy breath that promised a downpour.

He’d not forgotten what Hawke had told them the night before - of Blood Mages and a plan of attack to confront them. He also knew that their group was particularly prone to being ambushed, and a bit of foreknowledge of their numbers and location would likely help avoid the worst consequences from that.

As the first sprinkle of warm rain broke, Fenris realized that for all Kirkwall was awful at being a safe and crime-free city, it excelled in water management. The curved cobbles and divots at the sides of streets easily funnelled water downhill, across steep channels to dump whatever waste and grime had been swept up into the sea.

The trickles around his feet never stood freely, never given the chance to become fetid or spread disease.

He stopped at his house, replenishing what few potions he kept on-hand, pausing to oil his sword and the leather joints of his armor, not wanting the moisture to swell and lock them together. If anything happened, he’d need all the flexibility he could get.

When he ducked out, the steady rain had become a deluge, roaring against rooftops and spattering in dramatic waterfalls off the eaves. The gleaming black eyes of rats watched him from a corner, their bodies dark with water as they huddled together in a small dry spot.

He passed the Alienage, a few of the children still out in the heavy rain, laughing and kicking water at each other, their parents steadily watching him walk from their sheltered doorsteps. One of the children paused, opening their mouth to catch some of the rain on their tongue. As one, the others followed, rain on the leaves of their Vhenadahl drowning out even the sound of Fenris’ own footsteps.

A half-dozen tiny figures facing the sky in perfect stillness while the world flowed in liquid movement and the soft smell of rain blanketed them all, thunder rumbling in a low growl as the monstrous clouds passed over them.

It lasted only for a few beats of his heart before the spell broke and one of them ducked down to toss a handful of black mud at another. Chaos broke loose in screams and laughter, and Fenris moved on, leaving harried parents to duck out into the rain and scold their children about ruining clothes with dark stains.

 

The journey down to Darktown was less pleasant, the warm water loosening and dampening things that had dried over, prompting them to release their scent anew. Fenris wrinkled his nose against it, but still strode resolutely past the rag-adorned and skittish humans eyeing the gleam of his armor and the length of his sword. He could hear the calculations running in his head, weighing the possibility of profit against that of death. They clearly decided to live.

Water drained down through pipes and furrows in the stone, dripping wet from low ceilings and pooling where rubbish formed small dams. A few stubborn refugees were prowling up and down the entrance to Darktown, poking rubbish until it flowed with the rest of the thickening rivers, down toward the sewers proper. Living in the worst part of the city as they may be, some still strove to keep what little they could clean, still took slivers a pride in what few possessions and space they could lay claim to. 

He stepped around the dark, rushing water, skirting down the path past Abomination’s clinic simply because it was the one he was most familiar with. Fenris glanced inside, finding it empty but for the red-gold head of hair lowered over a book, quill looping across the bottom of a page. He brushed past the doorway, ignoring the startled “Fenris?” behind him as the Abomination realized he was there.

The deeper he went, the thicker the smell became, and He stubbornly bore through it, knowing his nose would adjust the longer he stayed. It became a bit more difficult, jumping from dry patch to dry patch, toes splaying for grip, hands out to catch on stone walls and abandoned, half-rotted wooden structures before a stone stairway finally curved up away from the growing sea of rainwater and filth.

He rubbed his feet off on the edge of a stone banister, scraping his heel on a stair with a grimace of disgust to get a clingy bit of... hopefully mud, off before continuing. The Maleficar were supposedly down in Darktown - through the sewers. He’d have to be careful from thereon out.

A few hallways of dry stone curved through the sewers, past a few lone stragglers sitting atop spindly legged hutches themselves perched over the flowing water, protecting the few belongings they had through isolation.

He noticed when the spindly structures grew more frequent, until a sort of penninsula branched off of one of the sewer’s bridges, hanging out over a veritable lake. Colorful tents were perched upon the platform, figures moving between them in the distance. He edged back to lean into the shadow of a corner, silently evaluating whether or not these people were the ones he was looking for. He tilted his head, listening closely over the splash of flowing water and low murmur of voices from the dozen or so little abodes.

He picked out a man talking, loud and irritated, only the words ‘my wife’ and ‘promised’ being evident, before his voice cut off abruptly. Fenris frowned, peaking around the corner to check if he could sneak any closer.

A touch of magic brushed against his markings, and the scuff of stone behind him.

He stiffened, turning sharply, but a blade pressed against the side of his throat, cold metal stinging the lyrium where it touched.The magic brushed again, almost familiar, and a voice murmured,

“Well, you’re not someone I expected to see.”

Fenris held still, ready to flash into a ghost if he needed to, eyes turned as far as he could to try to catch a glimpse of the woman behind him.

“Who were you expecting?” He growled, and she huffed something like a laugh.

“Another customer, for one. Something about the rain makes people think it’s a perfect time to sneak around, asking for their naughty wishes to be fulfilled.” The blade came away from his neck, and he slowly turned.

“So what is it for you?” She asked lightly, “Are you here to get a wish granted?” Her skin was dusky - Antivan, maybe, The clothes she wore were black and gold, heavily adorned with the metal in twisting rings. He caught a gleam of pink, and looked up into black sclera, gleaming silver irises, and streaks of vibrant pink stretching out from the corners of her eyes.

Desire Demon.

He jumped back from her, reaching up for his blade, and felt the twist of the Fade around him. A dark figure stepped out from the pathway across from him, and several more abandoned the tents to approach. His markings flared, but already his mind was calculating how to make an escape. Past the demon? Into the lake below? He didn’t know how deep it was, and swimming in such filth did not appeal to him.

He was strong, yes, but he knew when he was outnumbered and cornered. His Lyrium would help, but it did not make him invulnerable.

“No? Pity, I had hoped. You are quite interesting, after all.” That prod again, sliding up the back of his neck like a cold caress. His eyes snapped back to the demon, or… was she a demon? She had to be. No one else had those eyes, but she lacked the horns and tail. But... he knew the influence of magic. He could feel the skitter of it in the air, like venomous insects laying in wait.

“Would you rather we fight?” She glanced to his sword handle, and he carefully lowered his hand.

“If it’s the same to you,” His tone was perfectly polite and very cold. “I’d prefer to just leave.”  
She pouted at him, and the twitchy static of magic shifted a little.

“But I wanted to _play_ ,” She whined, “And you have so many wishes just bubbling in there.”

The robed figures encircled them, and the demonic woman sauntered toward him, the dagger gestured like it was a simple stick.

“So heartick. Always ready to fight because that’s the only response to fear you know. The only way to survive.” Fenris watched her warily, feeling her magic poke and prod, skitter like centipedes along his lyrium. "One could have guessed." He murmured.What did she mean _play?_

She sighed, bringing the knife to her lips and kissing it absently, flesh against cold silver in a touch that would have been more at home on the head of a loyal pet than any weapon.

“So, darling… what’s your wish? What’s your _desire_?”

Fenris bristled slightly, turning to keep her in view as she circled.

“I have none that you can fulfil.” He bit out.

“No?” Her innocent voice only raised his hackles further. “But your heart disagrees, you know. It’s yearning for someone, despite all the darkness.” She moved, quicker than a snake, away from him faster than he could lash out with his armor claws. Her flowing clothes settled back into place as she raised the dagger to her lips, and he anxiously realized she’d managed to nick his arm. That she had his blood.

“Oh, you’re in _love_ . That’s so _sweet_ .” She tossed a careless grin toward one of the people in the circle. “No, really, it is sweet. The one he _desires_ is tangled up in all that darkness. A hero - our city’s Champion.” Several of the people shifted uneasily, and Fenris felt his heart leap as the magic shifted, rising from around the circle. His markings flared to life, and he reached for his sword again. The black-eyed woman didn’t seem to care.

“And while a whole city admires his strength, you? You champion his restraint. A mage who you couldn't tell was a mage. Can't tell, until he's using that magic of his. Oh, or touching you. And you _like_ it when he touches you, don't you? When you should be disgusted, you crave him instead."

He felt himself bare his teeth without really meaning to, carefully placing his feet to keep her within eyeshot as she circled. "And why do you think you know this?" He asked, voice barely above a growl. Fenris felt an angry flush crawl up his neck, both from her hungry descriptions of what _was supposed to be an intimate moment_ and the acknowledgement itself. The contrary feelings were quite plain to his own heart.

"It's just a little parlor trick, darling, Don't worry." She shrugged, ever casual. "A girl's got to eat after all.”

“What would a Demon want with food?”

Black eyes widened, blinking at him.

“Oh? You couldn’t tell?” She pointed at herself with one finger, eyes wide enough to almost look innocent.

“This body’s mortal. It still needs food. The darling who offered herself to me was just the _epitome_ of desire. She wanted to be wanted, and I love to make people _want_ . A lovely little trade, don’t you think?” The demon- no, the _Abomination_ spun on her toes, spreading her arms like she was presenting herself.

“And some people need a little help, untangling their thoughts, their _pasts_. Satisfying their desires is even better than the coin they provide, so really, a good trade on all accounts." She bounced, clapping her hands. "I can tell you how to keep yourself in his heart, you know, how to break him. All I ask from you... Well, I would love to ask you to keep him away. But the handle of the leash you have on your arm, you couldn't pull it tight enough to stop him if you wanted. You own him. I think he'd wait forever. But he is still a free man in the eyes of the law.” Her tiny grin showed a flash of a sharp canine, and he realized her hood was covering the points of elven ears. “Rather convenient for you, isn’t it?”

 

Fenris carefully noted the explanation, regarding her with renewed wariness at the offer. (And a sliver of mad, desperate hope, that she really was telling the truth - that Hawke felt at least some portion of the heedless devotion that he did.)

“I am not interested in any deal tonight." A heart won through deceit and manipulation... or worse, magic. No, that was not for him. He shifted, still painfully mindful magic humming around him, and Hawke's use of plurals at the bar. Blood mages.

"Aw, that's so sweet. You're so caught up on him. Well, just for giving a bitter little heart a sight of something greater than herself, I'll give you one... hint. Nothing that someone else with eyes couldn't tell you themselves?" She stopped in front of him, folding her arms, frowning and staring at him as if she were staring _through_ him, unsettling icy eyes peircing him deeper than he thought possible. "That man loves his family. If you don't want to make his life difficult, impossible even, get used to the idea of those little girls. Especially the mage. His goal is a noble one, after all. To make another mage like him. From you’re heart, that’ll be no easy feat." She sighed softly. "I'm shocked even now, darling.  I could give you answers about before, the man you were, the people from your dreams, and your heart still cared more for his opinion of you.”

"How would you know any of that?" he said stiffly, wanting to snarl that she was just spying, that the Hawke affairs were public enough that she was simply smoke and mirrors about reading into the heart of things, but- He hadn't told anyone else, about the memory loss. About the bitter reaching toward memories he couldn't even remember having, let alone what they may contain. A part of him had been carved out, re-shaped into a slave and then again into a warrior. He had nothing- he WAS nothing, but the torture inflicted upon him, and the shell of a person clawing their way to safety. To vengeance.  
But no. She was right. He'd forget again if it meant keeping Hawke safe.  
And that scared him.  
He glanced toward the exit, contemplating whether or not she would release him unscathed, or if he'd have to fight out. "If you know what is coming- who, is coming, then why are you still here? Do you think his heart will be any easier to sway than mine?"

"And who's to say that I won't pack up and run as soon as you walk away?" She said with a shrug, "I only know because you know. I only found out when you arrived." There was a press, a feeling to stay. _Longer, longer. There was still more to find out here. What was in those tents?_

"I could always give you those times back. It'd take a little time, but I certainly have the means. Hm... but what to ask for in return? What could you lose for a wish like that?" Her hand reached up, a hair's breadth away from brushing his chin, trying to make him look at her without actually touching. "Surely, you aren't frightened of me, without your mage _dog_ here to protect you~?"

The way she said it- the crawl of magic itching and biting at his markings: Fenris stepped away. He felt his heart sighing, singing, _craving to know more about the little tents and what lay within. Just a little more time, he had plenty of it!_ **No.**  
No.  
That was the magic and its venom, and that wasn't what Hawke would want him to do. To stay here alone, against an unknown number of mages- no, against blood mages and an Abomination.  
He'd probably fought against worse odds before, but the sickly sweet things she pulled from his heart were too close for comfort. Fenris stepped back and drew his sword in a fluid motion, watching her carefully for any sign of aggression.

She sighed. "Struck a nerve, have I? The rest of you will have to stay hidden.  I'll see you tonight. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll be able to play with you yet." She blew him a kiss and headed back to the tents, the mages parting their ranks to let her through.

He and the circle stood at an impasse for a long moment, his markings shimmering in the wet darkness before they finally stepped aside to allow him to walk carefully toward the exit.

Fenris did not put away his sword until he had traveled safely back into Lowtown.  
The words she had pulled from his heart were... unsettling. What had she found that she hadn't said aloud?

  
He was tempted to return to demand answers.

He also knew some desires were best left unsated.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review, comment, critique - I'd love to hear from you!


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